The sounds of fighting had disturbed the household, and Glarious, unable to contain her curiosity, had opened the front door. A shriek filled the air as she saw the carnage that lay before her home. Pooter ran to her as fast as his legs could carry him.
‘Punny, Oh Punny!’ she cried, and Pooter pulled her back into the house and bolted the door. Then came the sounds of footsteps as Pooter was deluged with small bodies all wanting to cry at the same time.
‘Take them upstairs!’ shouted Pooter to Cabble, who had caught up with his master, and heeding the urgent request he led Glarious and her children up the stairs in a cacophony of wailing. Only Allacar seemed to take everything in his stride, sitting calmly on the top of the stairs as the family was finally ushered from view.
Pooter ran back to the window and looked for signs of movement. The solitary guard was leading his horse away on foot, his face a picture of amazement as he passed by the bodies of his fallen comrades. At length, he left the crescent, and all was still. But then, deep in the shadow of the laurel bushes that lay on the far side of the crescent, Pooter saw the creature slip out of the darkness once more.
The jazpah must have heard Glarious cry out and had returned to investigate the cause.
Pooter watched, his breath frozen in his chest, as the awful figure began to move towards his home. It came closer, until at length it stood at the window right in front of him. He dared not move. The thin blade in a claw-like hand swayed to and fro as the head above rocked gently from side to side. Two jawbones, hinged on either side of the head like pincers, guarded a bright red hollow mouth. Two flared nostrils sucked in then exhaled air, a combination of heavy skin flaps vibrating as they did so to produce the resonant buzzing sound. It stared at Pooter with large insectoid eyes. From such close proximity, Pooter could see that they were made of thousands of individual hexagonal cells. As before, there was something familiar about the strange face before him, but quite why this was so, he was still unable to tell.
The jazpah looked at Pooter for what seemed an age, but then at last, seeming to lose interest, it simply walked away, its shadow fading quickly as it left Dutiful Crescent once more.
Pooter had not breathed for more than a minute and he fell to his knees, huge gulps of air filling his lungs with relief.
Sometime later, with the children safely gathered in a back bedroom, Pooter, Glarious and Cabble, huddled together around the kitchen table with refreshing cups of nettle tea.
‘Oh Punny!’ said Glarious, her hands still shaking. ‘I don’t think I shall sleep for a week!’
‘I have never seen the like of that in all my life.’ added Cabble, still pale.
‘Surely all hope is lost?’ cried Glarious
‘Now, now, my dear,’ said Pooter. ‘Things may indeed seem glum. But that is why we must be brave and not allow…’
‘But how can that be?’ Glarious interrupted. ‘First the King dead, then the Queen cast. Powerful Nobles, and even Holy Guards and Clergymen, freshly slaughtered. And now,’ she wept, ‘we are surrounded by evil things, that surely mean to kill us all!’
‘We will be safe, my dear,’ Pooter said. ‘You must believe me in this. For I am in the service of none other than Lord Eaglett Rootsby, and I have trusted him happily with all of our lives.’
‘It is true,’ added Cabble. ‘I have met his Lordship, and a more impressive gentleman could hardly be imagined.’
‘But where is this Lord now?’ demanded Glarious.
‘Doubtless waiting for me at my office at this very moment,’ replied Pooter, rising to his feet.
‘But Punny!’ protested Glarious. ‘You cannot mean to leave us?’
‘I must, my dear. I simply have no choice. Only Lord Rootsby will understand what is happening to our Kingdom, and what must be done about it. But stay within this house and no harm will come to you or our children. The creatures seem to me like wasps; if you make no move to threaten them, they leave you alone. At least, I think that this is so. As for you, Cabble, I am deeply indebted to you for attending upon the Pooter household. If I can press you to remain a little longer, it will be a great personal service to me.’
‘Thank you most kindly, sir’ said Cabble, with a nervous look at the door. ‘I am very happy to stay here as long as you wish.’
‘Excellent,’ said Pooter. ‘I am sure Glarious and the children would all appreciate your company.’
The shouts of glee from the children as they rushed into the room and the look of relief on his wife’s face, confirmed this to be true.
By the time Pooter was ready to leave the Red Sun too had disappeared below the horizon. He opened the front door and waited to allow his eyes to accustom themselves to the dark blue light. A new coldness hung in the air, but Dutiful Crescent seemed deserted.
‘Oh Punny,’ Glarious said miserably. ‘Do you really have to go?’
‘There is no doubt about it,’ said Pooter, ‘for I feel certain that His Lordship is waiting for me.’
‘But the creature,’ she wept. ‘They are so…horrible. And soon it will be night, and you are all alone.’
‘Calm yourself, my dear. In this, I know what I am doing.’
Pooter looked into his wife’s eyes and for an instant felt long forgotten memories of a once youthful infatuation. There was a moment of shared silence as their love for each other was recognised once more. He took her hands. ‘Cabble will be here,’ he said gently, ‘and I will return soon.’
He leant forward, kissed his wife on the cheek, and then turned and walked into the street. When he had gone the first few yards he looked back and waited for the door to be bolted. At a top window, he saw his children, their faces pressed against the glass in the light of a glowick. Several small hands waved forlornly. He waved back, a lump growing in his throat, and then turned to walk briskly away.
The streets were deserted and Pooter made his way to Hexagonal Place without seeing another living soul. At first, he missed the huddled shape that lay in front of his office in a dark shadow, but as he drew closer he saw the remains of a jazpah. Then he saw Abather, and with an involuntary cry of grief he leapt towards her.
Even in the half-light he could see the deep wounds that covered her body. The blood that had flowed freely in her fight for life was sprayed thick like paint on the ground around her. What looked to be the flesh of the jazpah covered her claws. Her mouth lay open and baring her gums, the last snarl of defiance still fixed upon her face as the cruel blade had finally taken her life. The jazpah, however, had this time met an opponent that had matched them for speed and ferocity. It lay frozen in its final death throe, its blade fresh with blood, but swaying no more.
Pooter reached down and stroked Abather’s head. It was still warm, and despite the smell of blood, he recognised the sweet scent that was so dear to him. Abather was a Toothless Grinhound of the highest pedigree, and it was the nature of their breed to defend to the last the lives and property of their owners. In this they were without equal. Abather had done her duty, no thought of flight having swayed her resolve as the deadly creature had turned upon her in a frenzy of violence.
‘Good girl,’ he whispered, as he stroked her cheek, ‘You have deserved this sleep, and no mistake. You just lie there dreaming, and I’ll come back for you soon.’
He stood up once more and looked towards his office. A light flickered across the window. He looked around one more time to be sure he was alone, and then walked to the door.
Lord Eaglett Rootsby sat on the large settle in Pooter’s front office. Even in the dim radiance of a single glowick, the changes that had come over him shocked Pooter to the core. Whereas he had imagined Rootsby’s booming voice welcoming him once more, before him now sat a man so drawn that he looked incapable of stirring from his seat.
Rootsby smiled warmly. ‘Do not be alarmed, Mr Pooter,’ he said in a frail voice. ‘You find me alive, and quite well, though somewhat older. Doubtless my return to the City after so long an absence has something to
do with it. For I have been far away for many years.’
‘But, I do not understand, My Lord,’ said Pooter, ‘What has happened to you?’
‘Only time,’ said Rootsby. ‘And that, my dear friend, visits us all. Once we spend what we have been given, there is nothing more we can do. But,’ he said, silencing further questions that were forming in Pooter’s mind, ‘there is much yet to be done, and little time to do it.’
When they were facing each other across the polished duckwood table, a second glowick now warming the scene, Rootsby spoke again. ‘I am sorry about your beast,’ he said. ‘She died out of love for you. In that single action, she has become fulfilled.’
Pooter looked into Rootsby’s eyes and saw a depth of age within them. ‘She was as good a friend as any man could possibly deserve,’ he said. ‘My children will be very upset. And Cabble, my assistant, will be heartbroken.’
Rootsby nodded with understanding. ‘That the jazpah seed has been brought to life, is an abomination. For they are soulless beings.’
‘But, why are they here?’
‘The world is always a strange place, Mr Pooter, and this world is no less strange than the next.’
Pooter furrowed his brow.
‘His Oneness means to take us all,’ continued Rootsby, with dark intensity. ‘Not just in this world, but in all worlds, and for all time. For he has discovered Her nature, and now abuses Her love.’
Rootsby sat back, and for the strangest moment Pooter seemed to see a young man before him, a man that somehow he felt he knew, as if from a dream, or some other long forgotten memory.
‘We have met many times before, you and I,’ said Rootsby.
Pooter’s mind froze, the air fixed in his body as if he had been punched. He took a deep breath and found himself replying. ‘I seem to know this also, My Lord. But I do not know how, or when.’
‘Why,’ replied Rootsby, his eyes twinkling, ‘all at the very same time. But never before have you found what I have been looking for. For our purpose is intertwined, and if one should fail, the other must surely follow. From our very first meeting, something told me that this time would be different, but I had to be sure. And then what a blessed relief it was, when two events confirmed the certainty.’
Pooter struggled for meaning. ‘Events, My Lord?’
‘The King of Honeybees in the Library, the first; his image on the painting of Castell Florret, the second. Many have been the times when they have not been found. For it is so long ago since I hid them from the future, that there were times when even I doubted their existence. That I had created a dream that deceived me, and would forever be cursed with seeking a certainty that did not exist. How long ago it seems. I remember a still night, a night when even time seemed stalled by endless possibility. The darkness of the Grand Library, freshly built, yet to be clogged by dust, and filled with the fresh smell of paper. The Kingdom of Honey upon my lap, still within its wrapper, and waiting to accept a magical gift. I remember also the Twelfth Palace before the fire, and a painting newly unveiled. Dawn still held the light at bay, and within my pocket, a child’s set of oil paints, a single brush, and an image fixed in my mind like a beacon. The tiniest details, you see, and yet ones that hold the key.’ He smiled warmly at Pooter. ‘For you found them both, Mr Pooter, and at last I am here, as are you, in our rightful place; the one place and time where things can truly be done, and undone.’
Now totally bemused, Pooter could only stare at the man before him. He had found the King Bee hidden in the Library, as he had found its image on the painting in the emporium, hidden though it was under countless ages of grime, but the incredible notion that Rootsby himself had placed them both where they lay in far ancient times, cast his mind into a deep well of uncertainty. Was he before a madman? Was Rootsby just a further confusion in a world that seemed to be losing all reason? The ground beneath his feet shifted uncomfortably as the notion came over him, only to be dissolved a moment later as Rootsby fixed him with his still powerful eyes.
‘I came to see you on a matter of the utmost importance, Mr Pooter, a matter in which only one such as you, could possibly achieve a successful outcome. For you are one that can act within but a single moment of time. Very few are the number who hold such a rare gift within their being, and even fewer are the number who can safely contain the deadly risks that lie within it.’ Rootsby sat forwards to stare at Pooter, his eyes burning with a dark orange intensity. ‘You have the power within you,’ he said at length, ‘to tip the scales between victory and defeat, between right and wrong, even between good and evil, and very soon, a single chance to right a great wrong will come upon you. Whether you will succeed, or whether you will fail, I do not know; such knowledge of the future is beyond me. But in that one moment of time, the fates of all our futures will rest within your hands alone.’
Pooter stared back, as lost and helpless as a child being stretched by numbers far beyond their understanding.
‘Close your eyes,’ said Rootsby sitting up, his own eyes suddenly filling with the vibrant colours of a rainbow once more and his voice strong and firm. ‘Close your eyes, and let the memories of times and places come back to you. For it is through all the former lives that you have ever lived, that you have gained the secrets that lie deep within you.’
Pooter did as he was bade, and as Rootsby’s words faded, he felt the office walls dissolve and bright sunlight burst upon his face. A sweet scent of honey and oranges, suddenly as familiar as ham and eggs, filled the warm air. He saw huge golden pyramids carved with symbols, the intricate grooves as recognisable to him as an accounters’ report. He watched as vast crowds thronged beneath him, their shoulders parched by a single golden sun as they knelt on the dry yellow sand. He felt the breeze from large green leaves as they were fanned above him and heard the cries of a thousand throats sing his praises, his hand waving before him to cast blessings onto a sea of glistening heads like petals onto a lake. Suddenly he was alone in a dark stone room, the cold and the aroma of sweat as comforting as home. And there before him, on a plain stone altar, sat a beautiful crystal, the colours of the rainbow filling the air as a single beam of sunlight pierced its perfect symmetry.
When Pooter finally awoke his office was empty and dark. He stood, lit a fresh glowick, and stared at the imprint of Lord Rootsby’s body on the settle. Somehow, he knew that he would never see him again. At least, not in any way that he could understand.
He went outside to collect Abather’s body, wrapping it in her blanket and placing it securely in the wood store in the back yard. The next day he would ask Cabble to help him bury her in the courtyard garden. It was where she should lie, but it would be a difficult day.
He went upstairs to his balcony, his mind bobbing once more upon a sea of confusion. With no clouds to contain it the night air had become thin and biting cold; his breath danced before him like smoke. Away in the distance he saw angry crimson fingers stab towards the sky; somewhere was fiercely ablaze, but the certainty left him strangely unmoved. He took the remains of the crossbow bolt from his pocket and stared at the shadow of dried blood, still held tight within its cruel barbs. He thought of Sideswipe and Ramuth-Pro, and wondered what was happening to them now. He closed his eyes, suddenly aware that he wished to pray for the safety of his companions. And in that single moment, such a surge of energy grew within him that when he opened his eyes once more, it seemed as if the canvas of the heavens had shifted above him. Slowly at first, but then more rapidly, lines and intersections began to appear in the stars, and as they streaked into place he saw again what looked to be a crystal, at first seeming a billion light years away, but then quite suddenly as close as his hand. Its multi-faceted surface shimmered with restless energy. He reached towards it, the compulsion to touch such a beautiful object far too strong to resist.
Then as his index finger connected with another dimension, the world around him exploded into fragments.
Chapter 41
‘This is an evil
place,’ whispered Heather, Allessia’s new companion from the Queen’s Wing.
‘Lead the way,’ Allessia said, turning to the femone who had told them both what lay hidden beneath the Grand Hive.
The girl bowed and walked through the open doorway, Allessia and Heather following her onto hard metallic steps leading down into the Deep Hives.
‘Are you sure you can find it again,’ Allessia whispered, after they had descended several flights.
‘Yes, My Lady. The chamber is at the greatest depth, but is not hidden.’
Allessia knew that the world of Drollup Procreation lay within the Deep Hives, but had no idea by what method such helpful servants were created. Her own drollups in the Seventy-Third Wing of the Palace had been in her service since her earliest memories; she had never questioned where they came from, or how. But the growing sound of distant cries and the steady rumble of activity, began to pour a sick feeling over her.
‘What are those sounds?’ Heather whispered to her, but before anyone could answer, a small entrance leading towards a bright light came into view. Their guide went to walk by but Allessia tapped her on the shoulder. ‘I must see,’ she whispered.
The entrance led to a balconied walkway where banks of bright lights bleached the pure white walls beyond. It a took a moment for Allessia’s eyes to adjust to the glare, as well as the overpowering sweetness drenching the humid air. As her senses cleared, teams of drollkeepers could be seen wheeling large metallic trolleys around the balcony and in and out of hundreds of small doorways. Pitiful cries rose and fell all around them, the dreadful melody punctuated every now and then by dreadful screams. But the balcony was not alone, but one of many falling away into the depths of the building’s vast hollow core.
‘We must move on, My Lady,’ her guide whispered urgently, ‘or I may be missed.’
Allessia nodded, and the small group returned to the metal stairway to continue their journey.
The Lords of Blood and Honey (The Kingdom of Honey) Page 31