The Missing Mallard [Or, Duck, Macalley! Duck! ]

by Robert Dahlen

  Argentium raised an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?” he asked me.

  “Hardly.” I pointed at Octavo. “Put that away at once!”

  The Doctor glared at me. “And who the devil are you?”

  “I am Alice Peavley, your host. And you and your assistant will behave yourself while you are on my property!”

  “Peavley, Peavley...yes! I’ve read the stories in the Courant!”

  “They let you have newspapers in the home?” Argentium snapped.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised!” Octavo cackled again. “So how are things in the crafting devices to spread fear and chaos business, Teddy?”

  Argentium snorted. “Don’t mock me, Oliver. At least I have something to show for my efforts.”

  “A giant mechanized quokka?”

  “This automaton is the highlight of my career!”

  “I’d hate to see the lowlights!” Octavo chuckled.

  “That does it!” Argentium dug into a pocket. “Duck or no duck, I’m going to—”

  “Egad!” Octavo pointed into the crowd.

  “Really, Oliver?” Argentium sighed. “Another pointless—”

  He stopped when we heard the sound, like the popping of a giant water-filled balloon. There was a flash of light, and when it had gone, a pixie was standing there. She was tall and blue-haired with majestic wings, dressed in a green gown that the word “ornate” doesn’t quite do justice to. I swear that sewing it must have driven half a dozen seamstresses mad. She held a wooden staff that was not so much carved as grown, with a monstrously large emerald embedded in the tip. Next to her was Glitterglim, the pixie who had referred to the golden mallard as “just another duck”. “Macalley?” I said faintly.

  He squinted at the pixies. “I believe that is Countess Gylburnt from Korigan County.”

  My head started to reel. “What the devil is Tirnog royalty doing here?”

  “She may have wanted to get away from the Fotheringay sisters.”

  “One could hardly blame her.” I glanced over at Grash. “Is she registered?”

  The troll looked up from his ledger. “Her and our other new arrival,” he said softly.

  “Should I be worried about all these villains who are after this duck?” I asked Macalley.

  “Only the ones who lose the bidding,” he replied.

  The Countess surveyed the crowd. “If it isn’t Doctor Octavo,” she said with a smirk. “They’ll let anyone into these auctions, it seems.”

  “Greetings, Countess!” Octavo shouted. “You’re looking quite devious this afternoon!”

  “A fine compliment coming from you. I think.” She looked to the side. “Ah. Professor Argentium. Have you achieved coherence yet?”

  “I would destroy you where you stand,” Argentium snapped, “had I not made a promise about the flowerbeds.”

  “Gladiolas?”

  “Planted this past week.”

  Gylburnt nodded. “Not that the clockwork wombat you brought along is going to do much destroying anyway.”

  Argentium reddened. “It’s a quokka, you cursed tree-hugger!”

  “It seems oddly adorable. Does it crush your enemies by hugging them to death?”

  “I’ll be glad to demonstrate. Oliver? Could you pop over here for a moment?”

  Octavo swung his hand cannon towards Argentium. “I’ll give you and that brass hamster a pop!”

  “Quokka!” Argentium raised a clenched fist.

  I sighed and marched up to Octavo. “Doctor?” I said sweetly. “You’re here to bid on the golden duck, right?”

  “Uh...yes?”

  “Well, you’re welcome to…” I dropped the sweetness and smiled sharply. “Once you put that thing away. And tell your assistant to stop mocking the pixies.”

  Octavo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Very well,” he muttered as he pocketed the hand cannon. Peirea scowled and ceased the nose-thumbing she had been directing at Glitterglim.

  “And you—” I pointed at Argentium. “Remember your promise.”

  “Fine.” He shook his head.

  I marched up to Gylburnt. “Countess…”

  The pixie raised an arched eyebrow. “And you are?”

  “Alice Peavley. I am your host, and this is my manor.” I folded my arms. “I assume you’re also here to bid on that bloody duck. If you wish to do so, you and your assistant will not attempt any shenanigans. The other bidders, the staff, the spectators, the Quokkatron, the gladiolas, the ducks chasing the auctioneer around the grounds...they are all off limits. If you or anyone else try anything, they will lose their auction privileges.”

  Gylburnt smiled. “Such spirit! When humanity is destroyed, I’ll make sure you’re among the first.”

  I glanced at Macalley. “Have I just been complimented?”

  “It’s hard to—” He paused. “Madame Alice? I fear we are about to have a calamity.” He pointed at the podium. “Ye Gods!” I exclaimed.

  Maccollin had been running around madly, trying to escape the two ducks who had been pecking at him. The pintail was closing in, and he was looking back at the duck instead of where he was heading, which was the podium. He struck it at great speed, and it toppled forward, falling on top of him. The glass case that held the Drake of Sonroda hit the ground and popped open; the golden duck bounced onto the grass.

  Glitterglim glanced at Gylburnt as the golden duck came to a stop; she nodded. He ran towards the duck, shouting, “Have no fear! I shall protect the Drake of Sonroda from thieves and scoundrels!”

  Before anyone could stop Glitterglim, never mind comment on his obvious lie, he grabbed the duck. It started to glow.

  As we watched, the glow flowed from the duck to the pixie. Glitterglim started to shrink, his body changing shape and becoming rather feathery. In seconds, he was a rather confused looking duck with a green head. “I was not expecting that,” Octavo said.

  “Macalley…?” I said slowly.

  “A moment.” Macalley walked over and lifted the podium off Maccollin, putting it back into place. “It’s obvious that this Drake of Sonroda is enchanted. It turns those who would handle it into duck.”

  “And it changed Glitterglim into a mallard.” I couldn’t help but smile. “It has a sense of humor.”

  “Which may make it more dangerous.”

  “A valid point.” I walked over to the duck. “But why didn’t it affect me last night...ah!” I exclaimed as the reason came to me.

  “Madame?” Macalley asked as he helped Maccollin to his feet. The auctioneer looked rather dazed, and was alternating between lunatic giggling and shouting about ducks.

  “Have you seen the gavel, Macalley?”

  “Over there.” He pointed towards the ground behind the podium as he led his cousin away.

  I thanked him as I retrieved the gavel and hurried back to the podium. The bidders were glancing at each other, and Octavo was openly glaring at Gylburnt, who was trying to coax Glitterglim away from the other ducks.

  The gavel made quite a satisfying sound as I hammered the podium. “Attention, please!” I shouted. The clamour died down as I continued, “I can tell that some of you would happily obtain this duck without going through the bother of bidding. I would recommend against it.”

  I bent down and picked up the duck. The crowd gasped, though I could see the smile on Gylburnt’s face. It faded quickly when I tucked the golden mallard under one arm and straightened up.

  “You may have noticed,” I said, “that I am not a duck. This is because until this auction concludes, I am the rightful owner of this artifact, and Macalley is my only designated agent. The curse only affects those who try to take the Drake of Sonroda against the will of its owner.”

  “So this means…” Argentium said slowly.

  “You’re keeping the duck?” Bludergard exclaimed.

  “Goodness, no. I don’t want this thing within a hundred miles of Darbyfield.” I glared at Bludergard. “This means that should any of you lay your hands upon this d
uck without bidding on it and winning the auction, you will meet the same fate as Glitterglim.”

  Octavo, Argentium and Gylburnt all looked at each other. They all sighed loudly. “Very well, then,” the Professor said. “I shall gain possession of the Drake of Sonroda honestly.”

  “For once,” Peirea added.

  “Splendid!” I smiled and rapped the podium again. “Macalley?” I said softly. “I like this gavel. Perhaps I can purchase this from Maccollin as a souvenir?”

  Macalley gestured towards his cousin, who was seated on the ground, bobbing back and forth, flapping his arms as if they were wings. “I fear he’s not in any shape to discuss the matter, Madame.”

  “Oh dear. Then who shall conduct the auction?”

  “A moment.” Macalley walked over to where Maccollin was sitting. “Cousin?”

  Maccollin looked at him with a rather unfocused gaze and a smile that was only slightly mad. “Ducks?” he asked.

  “Are you all right? You seem to be a bit indisposed.”

  “Ducks.”

  “Shall I handle the auctioning of the Drake of Sonroda in your stead?”

  “Ducks! Duckduckduckduck ducks!”

  “I assume that’s an affirmative.”

  “Ducks.” Maccollin closed his eyes and started humming.

  “Very well then.” Macalley walked up to the podium and held out a hand. “The gavel, madame?”

  I gave it to Macalley and moved alongside the podium. “The bidding will start at 300 crowns,” I said as I held up the duck. “Remember that the proceeds for this item will benefit the Darbyfield Library, and thus you are encouraged to bid generously.”

  “A library?” Gylburnt raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t mock libraries,” Argentium said. “I built my first automaton in one.”

  “Is it still standing?”

  “The automaton or the library?”

  “Both.”

  “Neither.”

  Macalley pounded the gavel on the podium. “Perhaps we can save the reminiscing until after the bidding is concluded, Professor?”

  “Splendid!” Bludergard raised his hand. “I bid 300 crowns for that delightful duck!”

  “Oh, will you shut up?” Octavo pulled out his hand cannon and stuffed the tip into Bludergard’s nose.

  Bludergard swallowed. “Would it be possible to retract my bid?”

  I stormed up to Octavo. “Doctor, for the last time, put that hand cannon away.”

  Octavo chuckled. “I think not!” he exclaimed as he pointed his weapon at me. “I’ve found a flaw in your logic, Peavley.”

  “Indeed?” I stared at the hand cannon, glowing blue at the end of its barrel.

  “If anyone touches the duck, they become a duck. But not if they touch the duck’s owner.” Octavo smiled cruelly. “It’ll be just as easy to steal you.” Peirea stepped next to him, flame sparking off her fingers.

  I meekly raised my hands. “The thought had not occurred to me,” I said.

  “You shall accompany me to my carriage. From there, we shall discuss the terms for your release.”

  I looked back as my mind raced. Gylburnt was flexing her fingers. The Quokkatron was rising up on its hind legs. Odd as it may sound, I was not as concerned for my own well-being as I was for the other attendees, and I had to act to keep them safe. “Doctor?” I said slowly. “I think there may be a flaw in your logic as well.”

  “How so?”

  “Let’s say I was to put up a struggle to keep from being abducted.” I held up the golden duck. “You or your assistant might grab this by accident. That would be unfortunate.”

  Octavo paled. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Let’s test that theory.” I pointed the duck at his face, holding its beak just a few inches from his.

  With a sigh, Octavo pocketed his hand cannon. “Was the bidding at 300 crowns?”

  “Hmmm.” I glanced at Argentium, who was stroking his bearded chin. “That theory about the duck might be true...but I doubt it could turn an automaton into a waterfowl.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I said. “You made a promise.”

  “I can afford to pay to have your flowerbeds replanted...once the Drake of Sonroda is mine.” He smiled as he started to raise his hand.

  “Argentium!” The voice came from above our heads. “I strongly recommend that you keep that quokka on its leash!”

  The professor winced and started to swear colorfully. “What in the world?” I said softly as a shadow fell across the front lawn.

  There was an airship, 600 feet long if it were an inch, hovering less than forty yards above the manor. The envelope was painted a splendid shade of red, with gold trim; the cabin that hung below it was a brown color, apparently for contrast. As we watched, a cabin door opened up and a rope ladder was tossed out. “Is that a name painted on the cabin?” I asked.

  “It appears to be…” Macalley raised an eyebrow. “‘Dawn’s Reckoning’.”

  “I recognize that name,” I murmured. “With all these villains about, it’s no wonder he showed up.”

  Octavo’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!” he shouted at Macalley. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “He’s not joking, Octavo!”

  The voice from above belonged to a gentleman who was climbing swiftly down the rope ladder. He was tall and broad, dressed in black and red, with darkly tanned skin and a head that was bereft of scalp hair. I’d like to think he grew out his impressive handlebar moustache to compensate for that. It was long, dark, and curled at the tips; had money ever been tight, he could make a living by hiring that moustache out as a towel rack.

  “It can’t be!” Octavo shouted.

  “It is!” The moustached man grinned. “Weston Easterly, at your service.”

  “Back off! Take that overinflated airbag and go!” Octavo drew his hand cannon and aimed it at me. “The Drake of Sonroda is mine!”

  “Hardly.” A red beam of light struck Octavo in his hand, sending his weapon bouncing away along the ground. For a moment, I was worried that one of the other rogues in the crowd might grab it, but it landed at Macalley’s feet. I sighed with relief.

  Octavo glared at a young, smiling gnome who wore a blue wizard’s jacket. She was balancing on a flying carpet as she swooped down from the airship towards us. “Spindrift!” he hissed.

  “Oh, you remember me!” the gnome said. “How sweet!” She pointed a wand with a glowing red tip at Gylburnt. “I wouldn’t try anything, Countess,” she said. “Your diplomatic immunity doesn’t apply if you attack innocents.”

  “Perfect!” Argentium chuckled. “Now I can—”

  Spindrift sighed and pulled a flask filled with a glowing blue liquid fr0m her belt. “Don’t make me use this, Professor,” she said. “Seriously. Those gardenias are quite lovely.”

  Easterly swung off the rope ladder, landing next to Macalley and crouching as he scooped up Octavo’s hand cannon. “Your pardon,” he said politely as he turned towards me. “You must be Alice Peavley!”

  “Yes, I am,” I said.

  “I’ve read about you in the newspapers—”

  “Everyone here has.” I somehow managed not to roll my eyes.

  Easterly blinked. “I suppose. A pleasure to meet you and Macalley all the same.”

  “So why have you darkened my skies with your airship?”

  “Why else?” He pointed at the golden duck. “I’m here to bid on the Drake of Sonroda, and keep this enchanted relic out of the hands of these villains!”

  Gylburnt gasped loudly, mostly I suspect for show. “How dare he!”

  “Is he registered?” Argentium snapped.

  “One of my assistants should have done that for me,” Easterly said. “Perhaps we can check with Maccollin?”

  I glanced over and saw that the gnome was now crouched on the ground, holding a deep and intense philosophical discussion with the three ducks. “I’d recommend talking with his assistant instead.”

  “I’ve already
checked.” Grach looked up from his ledger. “Easterly is registered, but his credit is still unverified.”

  “Is it now?” Easterly pulled a red and black credit chit from his pocket and walked over to the troll. “This should cover it.”

  “Hmm.” Grach examined the chit with his magnifier. “You have authorization to use this chit?”

  “My patron has authorized me to obtain the Drake of Sonroda by any means necessary.”

  “I knew it!” Octavo pointed at Easterly.

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Any legal means. Stop trying to stir up trouble, Oliver.”

  “That’s Doctor Octavo to you!”

  “Doctor?” Peirea said. “Perhaps we should try to outbid Easterly first, then destroy him?”

  “Stop defending Easterly!” Octavo snapped.

  “But I’m not—”

  “We all know you have a crush on him!”

  Peirea folded her arms. “Not in your wildest dreams. Or his.” As Octavo grunted and looked away, I saw Peirea glance furtively at Spindrift, who seemed not to notice.

  Gylburnt laughed. “Your assistant is soft, Octavo!”

  “And yours is quacking and covered in feathers!” he snapped.

  “Compared to some of my prior assistants, it’s a step up.”

  “Can we get on with it?” Argentium folded his arms. “I have havoc to wreak this evening.”

  “I'd recommend against doing so here,” Easterly said. “This is such a quiet place.”

  “It was until you lot showed up,” I muttered.

  “There! You see—”

  “And that includes you, Easterly!” I snapped. “This auction was intended to be for duck enthusiasts, not villains and their sworn enemies!”

  “‘Villain’ is such a harsh term,” Gylburnt said.

  “What term should I use, then?”

  “‘Destined future ruler of Tirnog, conqueror of the lands of the Crescent Sea, and subjugator of humanity.’”

  I shook my head. “That might be a bit too long, Countess.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Alice!” I glanced over towards the fence and saw Clarinda, getting out of her blue motorcar. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get this old thing to start. I…” Her eyes widened as she looked around at the spectacle that had sprung up on and above the front lawn. “I was going to ask if I missed anything,” she said half-dazedly, “but the answer to that is rather obvious.”