by Kit Downes
“Yes,” agreed Zal. “Well, over to you now…”
He took the carpet down from the frame and spread it out on the floor. Zara sat down at one end of it and, again, magic flowed from her hands. In the same way as it had taken Zal only a short time to weave the carpet, so it took Zara mere seconds to fill it with magic. They all gasped as the transparent thread lit up within the carpet, shining brighter than the sun. The magic flowed down those threads first, faster than the rest, and it reached the end before the other colours. The carpet lifted up from the floor and rippled once, straightening out the creases within itself. When it floated, it was perfect; as even and still as a plane of metal.
“Amazing,” said Arna.
Rip jumped up onto the carpet before any of them. It did not move even a fraction under his weight. Zal stepped up to join him and still it did not shift.
“It’s like standing on rock!”
Zara, Arna and Augur all climbed aboard. The carpet was as solid as a stone; it seemed impossible that it wasn’t touching the floor. They walked around on it as well as they could, marvelling.
“It’s the perfect carpet,” said Augur. “That invisible thread, it channels everything together. In normal multicoloured carpets the colours don’t work together, they just overlap their effects. But this one… It’s perfect.”
He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Zal, you are, without a doubt, the most brilliant weaver alive in Azamed.”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” said Zal. “You could have done it just as well with a bit more time.”
“No, I couldn’t,” said Augur. “You’ve a much better sense of balance and precision than I’ve ever had. It must come from your fencing. You’ll have to teach me.”
“OK,” said Zal. “And… Well, today has made me a bit more interested in weaving. I wouldn’t mind a few more lessons in that.”
“We’ll begin the day after the race,” Augur promised, patting his son on the shoulder and beaming.
“Ah, yes,” said Zara. “Who is going to ride it with me tomorrow?”
“I … I think I should,” said Zal. “I’d like to. I’ve been here at every stage in its weaving. I mean – it’s my carpet.”
Rip rolled his eyes, curled up on the carpet and went to sleep.
Haragan stepped back from the telescope and stroked his chin. Shar, Dari and Etan, another Shadow who’d been there on the night of the raid, waited in nervous silence. They were in an empty attic near enough to the Thesas’ house for Etan’s telescope to see through the front windows. Etan had spent all day watching the house and had signalled them the instant Zal and Zara returned.
“They’re made of stronger stuff than I thought,” said Haragan.
When he’d first heard they were still alive, a rage equal to that of the Dark Room had stewed inside him. But now he was calm. There was no point getting angry. He already had a solution.
“We’ll switch to Plan B.”
It was the morning of the Great Race. Now that Zal had agreed to compete, there was not one soul in Azamed who wasn’t excited by it. The sky was filled with carpets as the racing teams took last-minute practice runs, spiralling up and down around the mountain. One very daring team tried flying their carpet under the Caliph’s palace, through the crater. The water dragon’s jaws missed them by mere inches and they decided not to try it again.
Maps and scorecards were being snatched up as fast as they had been printed the day before. The doors to the viewing balconies were flung open as people arrived early to get the best places. Everyone was discussing the racing teams, and much money was changing hands. No one knew for certain what quality of carpet their favourites would have, but guesses were based on the previous year – and whatever rumours were drifting about. Hundreds of bets were made every minute. The city’s dishonest magicians were swamped by people bribing them to place curses on rival carpets. Being dishonest, most of them pocketed the money, promised to do everything in their power, and then did nothing at all.
Behind a protective ring of Citadel Guards, immaculate in shining ceremonial armour, the palace servants were busy assembling a special viewing area for the Caliph, his family and a few select ministers who had managed to outshine all their colleagues over the last few days. On a table stood seven race trophies: one for the first carpet to cross the line and one for the first carpet of each number of colours to finish. The city air smelled of anticipation.
A tradition of the race was that the contestants did not ride their carpets to the starting line. The etiquette was to walk from your residence to the starting balcony, your team carrying its rolled-up carpet on their shoulders. This way, no one could be certain of what carpet you were racing until you reached the balcony and made a great, dramatic show of unfurling it.
The race began on the starting balcony, which was halfway up the mountain, positioned at the feet of the Caliph’s stand. It was shaped like a crescent moon and was five hundred yards long, the two tips reaching out towards the desert.
Zal and Zara left the house carrying their rainbow carpet. Rip hopped back and forth between them, barking at anyone who came too close. As Augur and Arna weren’t riding, they were forbidden from entering the starting area. They had left the house before dawn to get good standing spots – and to place as many bets as they could on their children.
For the first time ever on a race morning, Zal found himself wearing a grin so wide, it hurt his cheeks.
“This is so exciting!”
“I know,” said Zara. “I can’t wait to see Haragan’s face!”
“He wears a mask all the time.”
“Well, his eyes then. They’re the part of the face that reveals the most anyway.”
“Hey, look, there’s Qwinton.” Zal pointed across the wide street, lined with other racers carrying their carpets. Qwinton was in deep, anxious conversation with Captain Burs.
“Robbed! Burgled – in my own home! And they even had the cowardice to do it while I was out. Where is the sportsmanship in that, Captain? Where?!”
“Sir magician, could you please calm down. You’re not the only person this has happened to. Now, what…”
Zal began to turn towards them, but Zara stopped him.
“Zal! The race begins in fifteen minutes. We’ll have to say hello when we’re done. When we’ve won.”
“You said it!” said Zal. “We’re really going to do it, aren’t we. No one is going to come close!”
“Yep,” smiled Zara. “I’m expecting us to win this one and then be disqualified from next year’s race because we didn’t give anyone else a chance.”
They reached the starting balcony.
“Thesa family team,” Zal said to the magician at the gate who was registering the teams as they arrived. “Zal Thesa, Zara Aura and Rip riding a multicolour carpet.”
After saving them from an eternity in the maze, there was no doubt that Rip had earned his place on the carpet.
“Right you are,” said the magician, who also taught at the Guild school and had noticed Zara’s absence from his lesson yesterday. “Ms Aura. That homework is still required.”
“Yes, sir,” said Zara as they went through the gate. “Over my dead body,” she muttered as they passed out of earshot.
The magician waved his hand up at the race obelisk, which was a fifty-foot rectangle of yellow sandstone. Dust and chips of stone flew as Thesa family. 3 riders. Multicolour, was carved onto it by an invisible magic chisel. Zal read the other names.
“The Shadow Society isn’t here yet,” he said.
“Haragan’s going to have a nasty shock when they arrive,” Zara replied.
They walked past the carpets that were already hovering along the balcony. The race rule was that the single-colour carpets started at the tips of the crescent to give them a slight advantage, with the others further back depending on how many colours they had in them. The six-colour carpets, Zal thought, would be in the very middle. He grinned again. The one- and two-colour
teams were not after the big prize: they knew they couldn’t compete with any carpets containing more than four colours. These teams were seeking the runner-up prizes, to be the best carpets in their categories.
“Hi, Zara!” Hani shouted and waved from amid the single-colours.
Behind the Caliph’s stand was a public balcony, almost as long as the starting one, and Augur and Arna waved their encouragement from the middle of it. The other spectators watched Zal and Zara with interest, keen to see how far along the balcony they would walk. There was no reaction as they reached the two-colours, or the three. Four-colours and above were the carpets that really made the race interesting.
As Zal and Zara passed them, there were murmurs. These became excited chatter as they entered the fives, and a lot of people announced “told you so” as they walked past even these and placed their carpet down in the very middle.
Grinning from ear to ear, Zal and Zara rolled out the carpet.
All talk was silenced. Then everybody gasped. The Caliph, who had just arrived and sat down, jumped up again. Augur and Arna congratulated themselves on raising such talented children. Zara touched the seven-colour rainbow carpet with her foot and it rose from the ground and floated, its colours shining brighter than diamonds.
The spectators breathed out and began shouting and screaming, laughing and crying. In seconds the balcony was half empty as people ran off to change their bets. The Caliph had to ask twice which team the rainbow carpet belonged to. His ministers were so shocked that no one heard him the first time.
Zal and Zara made a grand display of stepping onto the carpet and sitting down with utter nonchalance. Even Rip joined in by leaping on board and then going straight to sleep. Zal drew and polished his scimitar and Zara inspected her fingernails, both loving the envious – or even horrified – looks from the other racing teams.
“We’re going to win,” whispered Zal.
“So you think,” said Haragan.
Zal and Zara’s heads shot up. Rip growled as Haragan, Shar and Dari swaggered up, grinning beneath their scarves. They stopped beside the Thesa team. Haragan stood with crossed arms and a smug expression as Shar and Dari unfurled their carpet.
Zal and Zara’s mouths dropped open. The Caliph jumped up from his throne again. Some of those changing bets snatched their money back. Augur bit his own fist to keep from screaming. Arna fainted.
At one end of the Shadow Society’s racing carpet was the fragment that Qwinton had shown them. At the other was the one from the Caliph’s library. A new section of carpet had been woven to connect them and make a full-sized racing carpet. Zal’s weaver’s eyes saw in an instant that the new section did not contain the transparent thread. There was a chance that it would not fly…
Haragan quashed Zal’s hopes by reaching down and touching the carpet. It rippled and wobbled, rose and floated – albeit at an awkward, uneven angle – several inches in the air.
“You thieving, cheating camelpats!”
Zara snatched Zal’s scimitar from his hand and would have leapt forward had Zal not grabbed it straight back. He clamped his hand over her mouth and spoke to Haragan. Fighting could get them disqualified.
“You stole the fragments?”
“We merely had the good fortune to find them at a street market. We have the receipts to prove it,” Haragan said.
“There never is any evidence,” Zal murmured.
“How do you fancy your chances now, Thesa?” Dari said. He stepped onto the carpet and stumbled as it buckled under his weight. It steadied and he sat down, but the carpet keeled to the left so that he was sitting at an angle.
“I’d still say they were pretty good.” Zal released Zara, who had now calmed down. He pointed to the Shadow carpet, which was almost twisted in the air. “How much speed do you think you’re going to get out of that?”
“More than enough,” said Shar.
“We’ve got one advantage over you,” Zara said.
“Oh yes?”
“Yes.” Zara looked at the fragments that had once been whole rainbow carpets. The different patterns meant they must be from two different ones. “You don’t know the secret. You’ve made that carpet fly but you don’t know how you’ve done it. I do. We wove this one from scratch. We know the secret, and we can use it against you.”
Haragan’s eyebrows moved. Not very much, but it showed a slip in his confidence – which had already been shaken last night by the news that his greatest rival had somehow returned from the dead.
At that moment a bell was rung, signifying that the start was near. The Shadows mounted their carpet and it wobbled, steadied and floated still more unevenly. Zal and Zara shifted around to face forward, out towards the desert, the race landmarks and obstacles just visible in the distance. The other racing teams – the obelisk now had two hundred and thirteen names carved on it – had quick, last-minute conferences.
Zal leant forward over Zara’s shoulder.
“How can we?” he whispered.
“What?”
“The transparent thread. How can we use it against them?”
“No way I know of,” Zara replied. “I just said it to throw them.”
“Oh,” said Zal. “Right.”
The bell was rung again, this time by the Caliph himself. The signal was simple: go! The carpets leapt across the starting line.
The sky around them filled with carpets. The start was the most dangerous time for collisions and most of the teams climbed, searching for the space to accelerate. Zara instead took the rainbow carpet straight forward. She wove it through the competition with the same ease with which Zal had wielded his sword and his needles. The carpet was unlike any she had ridden before; it obeyed her instructions with absolute accuracy. Most carpets, even six-colours, suffered the problem of drift – the carpet’s own momentum carrying it a little bit further than intended. But the rainbow carpet had astonishing precision: it moved not a fraction further than she had intended. All the turnings were as smooth and accurate as a set square. The acceleration happened at an even pace, and Zara could sense that deceleration would never be necessary. The carpet could come to an instant stop, regardless of its speed, if she told it to.
“It’s perfect!” She laughed with joy as they overtook the last five-colour team.
Zal didn’t hear her. He hadn’t noticed the carpet’s performance: he was looking backwards, his attention fixed on the spectacle that had the Shadow Society’s Leader, in his secret viewing box, jumping up and down with fury. Haragan’s patchwork rainbow carpet was floating across the starting line at a speed of perhaps one centimetre per second. Shar and Dari were shouting at Haragan, who, in clear desperation, was pouring extra magic into the carpet. Zal’s heart rose so fast it almost leapt. He pointed at the struggling carpet in delight.
“Ha!” he yelled, then “Whoa!” as Zara cleared the other carpets, took the lead and accelerated. The rush of speed pushed Zal forward onto his stomach and he almost slid overboard. Grasping the edge, he pushed himself back up and twisted round.
Zara grinned at him over her shoulder. “This is brilliant!”
Zal realized how fast they must be going. Usually in the race you could enjoy the fabulous scenery, but the desert around them had been reduced to a blur. The rushing air was like a hurricane blowing in one direction. Rip scrambled to the head of the carpet and barked with exhilaration, his long ears rippling back in the wind. Zal looked over his shoulder to see the city had become merely a shape in the distance. The other carpets looked no larger than flies, so far behind.
“Ha-ha!” he yelled, and Zara echoed him.
Rip barked, and Zara peered ahead. “Zal, the cup! This is it!”
Zal glanced ahead and pulled a cup from inside his tunic. The first racing landmark was the Small Oasis, where the racers changed direction from west to south. The ritual of the cup was a racing tradition that had been started by bravado and continued by it. It gave no extra advantage, but anyone who did not do it woul
d never sleep easy at night knowing that their run of the race had been less than perfect. Zara slowed the carpet and the desert ceased to be a blur. The oasis, a small pond of shining water with two green palm trees growing by its side, appeared ahead. Zal lay down flat on the carpet and stretched his right arm, cup in hand, over the edge. The wind whipped his tunic sleeve back and forth against his arm. Zara brought the carpet down until they were a mere foot above the ground, and they zipped past the palm trees and skimmed over the surface of the oasis, their slipstream rippling the water. Zal scooped up a cup full of clear desert water and pulled himself back into a sitting position as they wheeled round and began to fly south.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes!”
Zal drank a quick mouthful from the cup and held it before Zara’s face so she could do the same. Rip turned round and Zal lowered the cup so he could lap up the last of it. The ritual completed, they sped south across the sands.
Zal sat back, feeling a joy greater than he had ever felt before. They had the best carpet. They were miles ahead in the race. Their greatest rival was probably only just out of the city…
Out of habit Zal glanced over his shoulder and, to his horror, saw the Shadow Society’s carpet. Haragan’s saturation with magic had worked: the carpet still rippled and wobbled as it flew, but they had caught up.
“Camelpat! It’s them!” Zal yelled.
Zara looked over her shoulder, cursed and began to speed up. The Shadow carpet went low over the oasis as they performed the cup ritual and then began to climb and accelerate.
“Zara, they’re catching up!”
“This is it!” Zara yelled.
“What?”
“Maximum speed! I can’t get it to go any faster.”
Even the rainbow carpet seemed to have its limits. Zara could feel how it was pushing through the air; the rectangular shape was holding it back and she knew that even Haragan’s tactic of pouring in more magic wouldn’t help at this stage.
A flaming arrow zipped past them and buried itself in the sand, extinguishing in a puff of smoke. Behind and above, Dari stood upright on the Shadows’ carpet and drew the string of his longbow back to his chin. Shar reached up and ignited the oil-soaked arrow tip.