by Alan Skinner
Her display of affection over, Achillia returned to her chair and resumed her practical demeanour. ‘That is not to say that it couldn’t be a single Myrmidot, out to cause harm for a reason of their own. If that is the case, we would like to discover who it is as much as you do. Beatrice …’ Achillia spoke to her assistant without turning to look at her, ‘do you know of any Myrmidot with red hair like the woman the Muddle …’ Achillia glanced at Grunge.
‘Wave,’ prompted Grunge.
‘…Wave described?’
Beatrice didn’t even pause to think. ‘No. There’s no Myrmidot who fits that description.’ Her voice was surprisingly deep and melodic, with the creamy resonance of an oboe.
‘Beatrice knows everyone in Myrmidia,’ Achillia said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Therefore, the woman is not from Myrmidia. So, the question is – who is she?’
Achillia leaned back, her eyes half closed. She seemed to be calculating something. When she spoke, she addressed both Muddles.
‘When the Mix happens, is it possible for a Muddle to end up as themselves?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure I understand, Achillia,’ said Crimson. ‘We are always ourselves, even during the Mix.’
Achillia smiled. She reached across her desk. Jelly beans were her particular favourite and she kept a jar filled with the colourful sweets on her desk. She picked up the jar, poured a small pile on the desk and began sorting the jelly beans. In a few seconds, she had four small piles in front of her, each pile containing three jelly beans. There was a red pile, a green pile, a yellow pile and a black pile. She scooped up the four piles in her hand, and poured them into an envelope.
‘If I pick out three jelly beans at random, what is the probability that they will be three of the same colour?’ Achillia reached into the envelope without looking and pulled out three beans and laid them on the desk: one red, one green and one yellow. She reached again into the envelope and took out three more jelly beans; once more out came one red, one green, one yellow jelly bean. For a third time, she put her fingers into the envelope and laid three jelly beans on the desk. They were all black.
‘See,’ she smiled. ‘there is a probability that even when you mix them, you get what you started with. Of course, it’s more complicated than that, I know. But, the probability exists.’
Grunge gave a small smile of his own. ‘It’s not a matter of probability. It’s a matter of possibility. And it’s not possible. It just can’t happen.’
Achillia looked at Grunge for a moment, then nodded. She scooped up the three black jelly beans. ‘Black,’ she said. ‘My favourite.’ And popped all three into her mouth.
It became clear to Crimson what Achillia was thinking. ‘You wanted to make sure that the woman on the river wasn’t a Muddle who hadn’t mixed?’
Achillia didn’t respond. She fixed her eyes on Crimson and chewed her jelly beans.
‘Grunge is right. When the Mix happens, it happens to all Muddles and all Muddles mix. It’s just …’ Crimson’s voice lowered just a little, ‘… just the way we are.’
Clearly, Bligh and Brian were a bit uncomfortable with the conversation. Beadles had a hard time understanding the Mix and could never understand how the Muddles coped. Myrmidots generally felt much the same, but Achillia didn’t appear at all uncomfortable.
Grunge broke the silence.
‘Is there a pass into the High Mountains from Myrmidia’s northern border?’
Achillia swallowed. ‘No. The only known pass is the one in Muddlemarsh, north of Bourne Bridge.’
Grunge looked at Brian. ‘And there isn’t one from Beadledom, is there?’
‘No,’ said Brian, ‘there isn’t. But no one has ever tried to find one, to my knowledge. Maybe there is one and we don’t know about it.’
Grunge’s brow creased for a moment before he spoke. ‘If nobody in memory has found one, it’s unlikely there is one at all. When Girth and his companions’ – Grunge saw the frown that flitted across Brian’s face – ‘went to the High Mountains, they went over Bourne Bridge. That may have been convenience, of course. But the mysterious woman also headed that way. She was already in Beadledom, so if there was a pass from Beadledom, it stands to reason she’d take that. I think it is highly likely that there’s no other way into the High Mountains than across Bourne Bridge.’
Bligh looked at Grunge. ‘But where does that get us?’
‘Since we know which way she has to travel, why don’t we try to catch her when she returns? We’ll wait for her at Bourne Bridge.’
Bligh and Brian exchanged glances. Crimson knew what they were thinking. She didn’t need to say it, however; Achillia said it for her.
‘You’ve already let her escape from one trap,’ she said, without a trace of blame in her voice. ‘That was unfortunate, but we wouldn’t want it to happen again. And I think we should assume that she’ll be even more wary. She may even expect us to be waiting.’ Achillia looked at her guests. ‘It will be more difficult to catch her this time.’
‘Three.’ Beatrice’s rich voice made the single word sound like a whole sentence. ‘Choose one from each of the lands. There will always be at least two to depend on, then. But not too many to alert her.’
Crimson and Grunge realised once more how uncertain their neighbours were of Muddles. Grunge remembered the conversation he and Crimson had had a few days earlier as they made their way to help the Beadles.
‘Topsy-turvy,’ he thought. ‘And unreliable.’
Achillia raised her eyebrows in a question and looked at Bligh and Brian.
‘It’s worth a try,’ said Bligh.
Achillia looked at the Muddles. Grunge glanced at Crimson. He knew there was no need to ask. He looked back at Achillia and nodded.
‘OK with us,’ he said.
‘Good. Now -’ began Achillia, when Brian interrupted.
‘There is something else to be considered,’ he said timidly. Brian wasn’t used to offering suggestions to one leader, let alone two, and he was understandably nervous.
‘And what’s that, Brian?’ asked Bligh.
‘Even if we catch this person, or even if they never return, we still have a problem.’ Brian swallowed nervously. The others just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed again, as if gulping down a mouthful of courage. ‘The blue fire doesn’t leave. Once a building has been burned, the fire just goes into the soil, waiting. How do we know that it won’t spread when it’s in the land, and start burning whatever’s around it?’
Brian stopped. The others were all looking at him intently. He took one last swallow and continued.
‘We need to be sure we have rid Beadledom of the blue fire for good. It’s not enough now to catch the mysterious woman.’
‘He’s right,’ said Crimson, softly. ‘That’s part of what I could feel. The fire is in the Land itself now.’ She turned to Grunge. ‘Remember when we first crossed into Beadledom? How Calamity sensed something wrong? I think that’s what she sensed.’
Achillia looked kindly at Brian. ‘Your little Factotum is right, Bligh. And besides, what if the one with the fire gets past those we set to trap her at the border? You’ll have need of an answer to the blue fire then. Perhaps even more than before now she knows you’re after her.’
Beatrice spoke again. For some reason she could not explain, Crimson felt her heart beat harder at the sound of Beatrice’s strong, deep voice.
‘The Muddles have given us the answer, I think,’ said Beatrice simply.
Crimson realised that, although Beatrice had a beautiful voice, when she spoke there was no expression. It was as if everything meant the same to her, and nothing meant anything to her.
The others waited but Beatrice didn’t continue.
‘Are you going to share what that is with us, Beatrice?’ prompted Achillia.
Beatrice looked up and for a moment the shadow of an expression flitted across her face. She seemed surprised that she had to explain.
‘Bl
ue ice. You need the blue ice,’ was all she said.
‘That’s impossible,’ said Bligh somewhat sadly. ‘Even if anyone could find the snowfield Girth and his companions found, there’s no way we could bring enough ice back.’
‘We don’t even know for sure that there is blue ice,’ added Brian. ‘All we have is an old document from someone no one remembers and who may never have existed.’
‘You need the blue ice,’ repeated Beatrice in her beautiful monotone.
Crimson stared at Beatrice. ‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked the Myrmidot.
Beatrice raised her head and stared back at Crimson. For the first time, Crimson saw Beatrice’s eyes and she felt a shudder run through her. Beatrice’s eyes were blue. The deepest blue Crimson had ever seen. The blue eyes locked onto Crimson’s. Crimson felt a jolt that started deep within her and then flashed through her whole body.
‘The connection is plain. As it is plain that the blue fire has been brought into the Land and it will stay until it is balanced by the blue ice,’ replied Beatrice. ‘You say we know too little to be sure. I agree. But we know too little to take the chance.’
For the first time, passion gave expression to Beatrice’s voice as she continued.
‘What happens when the blue fire enters the soil of the Land? Does it fade and disappear over time? Or does it grow? Does it spread through the Land until not only Beadledom is threatened, but all three lands? Perhaps it seeks out other blue fire and all those dots on your map will reach for each other and come together? There are too many questions, Crimson, not to do the obvious.’
Crimson couldn’t pull her eyes away from Beatrice. She felt a force that kept them fixed to the Myrmidot. A force like … she started. It was like the call of the blue fire. With an effort, she tore her eyes from Beatrice’s.
Her gaze no longer locked on Crimson’s, Beatrice looked at the others as she carried on.
‘Myrmidots know about fire. We built our land from the flames in our furnaces and the heat of our factories. Believe me, the blue fire does not belong in the soil of the Land.’
Beatrice came to a stop and then lowered her eyes once again.
‘Well, ah, yes, that, ah, does make a certain … sense,’ said Bligh, who didn’t quite know what to make of what had just been said. ‘Perhaps we should go and fetch some of this blue ice.’ It sounded like such a simple thing to do.
‘Brian’s right. It won’t be easy,’ Achillia warned. ‘The High Mountains are dangerous enough but who knows how much more dangerous they’ll be trying to return with the ice?’
‘And how much ice?’ said Bligh. ‘We might need half the snowfield!’
Grunge shook his head. ‘Girth wrote that just a small piece of ice consumed a very large piece of rock that caused the fire. We’ll just have to bring back what we can. Our problem will be to stop it melting on the way back.’
‘Our engineers will find a way,’ Achillia assured them. ‘Beatrice, find Copper and ask him to come right away. He’s probably still at Bellow’s.’
Beatrice put her papers on the corner of the desk and left through the main door.
‘So, who will make this journey?’ asked Brian. ‘How many should go? What will they need to take? When do they leave?’
Now that something was to be done, Brian’s instinct for organising took over. From his inside breast pocket, he took out a small pad and pen. He opened the pad, took the top off the pen and pushed it firmly onto the tail of the pen. ‘Right, let’s make a list.’ Lists were very dear to Brian’s heart.
Grunge and Crimson exchanged glances. ‘Crimson and I will go,’ he said firmly.
‘Good,’ said Achillia. ‘But you’ll need help. Let’s see what Copper suggests before we decide on how many need to go.’
She could see the unasked question on their faces.
‘Copper is one of our best engineers,’ she explained. ‘Our best furnace engineer. And you can’t be an expert on heat without knowing a lot about cold, too.’
‘We may as well agree on what they’ll need, anyway,’ said Brian, writing in his notepad. ‘You’ll need food, and water, and warm clothes, boots, mittens, compass …’ Brian paused as something occurred to him. ‘Where exactly are you going? Where in the High Mountains is this snowfield?’
Everyone stopped and looked at Brian. Achillia cocked her head and switched gaze from Brian to Grunge. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘That’s a very good question. The High Mountains stretch across the Land for hundreds of kilometres. You can’t just wander around until you find it.’
Grunge felt stumped and rather foolish. He had somehow thought it would be obvious where in the vast mountains they would find the snowfield. He realised he didn’t have a clue where they’d be going. His forehead creased; his fingers drummed on the arm of the chair. Crimson noticed that the rhythm was steady and even, not like Grunge’s usual attempts to keep in time with the music.
‘We’ll head north-east from Bourne Bridge,’ he finally said. ‘The snowfield must be north of Beadleburg. It was in that direction that they saw the blue fire centuries ago. There can’t be too many passes into the mountains going north-east. It can’t be too far east or it would have taken Girth and his friends more than four days to get there.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘We’ll just have to try.’
The door opened and Beatrice entered followed by another Myrmidot. The two made a very mismatched pair. While Beatrice was tall, even for a Myrmidot, Copper was short, not much taller than Brian. You could probably put three Coppers in one pair of Brian’s trousers, though, for whereas Brian was portly – like all Beadles – Copper was very thin.
‘He was downstairs. Coming back to finish some work,’ announced Beatrice.
‘Thank you for coming, Copper,’ Achillia said warmly. She came round and hugged the thin Myrmidot. Brian flinched, waiting for her to share her hugs once again, but to his relief Achillia went back to her chair and sat down. Beatrice had brought another chair for Copper, placing it between the Beadles and the Muddles.
‘Copper, we have a problem to solve. We thought you could help,’ began Achillia. She leaned forward in her chair and spoke directly to the engineer.
‘We have to transport a large quantity of ice. We can’t use a vehicle and we have to transport it for perhaps a week. Without it melting, of course.’
Copper peered over his small round spectacles at Brian and Bligh. ‘I take it this has to do with those fires that have been plaguing Beadledom?’ he said.
Bligh hesitated a moment. ‘It does. We think we may have found an answer to the problem.’
Copper grunted. ‘Well, there always is, if you look hard enough.’ He looked at Achillia. ‘It’d be better if you tell me all about it, than to have me ask questions that could already have been answered.’
Brian decided he liked Copper’s practical approach.
Achillia told Copper what she knew and what they had decided. When she finished, Copper sat back in his chair and pondered the problem. The others waited patiently while he turned the problem over in his head.
‘It can be done,’ he stated at last. ‘Tricky, but we can do it. First, you’ll need a cart to bring the ice back down the mountain. No, not a cart; a sledge. A sledge with wheels and runners so you can drag it over the snowfield. Next, we need a large cylinder for the ice.’ He looked at Crimson. ‘Something about half the size of that tank on your fire cart, I reckon. Then you’ll need an animal to pull it. Going up won’t be so bad, but coming down will be hard.’
‘Sparkle can do it,’ said Crimson.
‘She’s a good horse, and a strong one,’ said Copper, ‘but she’d never make it up and back. It’s not speed we’ll need, but stamina.’
Everyone was puzzling over this when Grunge had an idea. ‘How about a bear?’ he said.
Bligh started sharply. ‘A bear? A big bear?’
Grunge grinned. ‘As big as they come.’ He saw Crimson smile. ‘Miniver. She could do it. She might not be happ
y being away from all the young Muddles, but I’m sure she’ll do it if we explain.’
Copper didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Hmmm … a bear. Couldn’t ask for better. She’ll handle the mountain tracks and she’ll be slow but reliable. Not as slow as an ox and less skittish.’ Copper took off his glasses and polished them on his shirt as he stared at the ceiling, thinking. ‘We’ll make a special cylinder with extra insulation. The insulation won’t be enough on its own, so I’ll rig up a unit to provide power on the journey. That new solar unit we made will be just the thing. Light and small, it’ll provide enough power to keep the ice frozen. I just hope it stands the trip. It’s a bit fragile but we don’t have time to make anything else.’
‘What happens if it fails?’ asked Brian.
‘The insulation will keep the ice frozen for a day and a half, maybe two. After that, it’ll start to melt. Within two days, you’ll have nothing but bathwater. Cold bathwater.’
‘When will you have everything ready, Copper?’ asked Achillia.
‘I’ll start tonight. It’ll be done by late tomorrow. We can leave the following day.’
‘We?’ Achillia looked at the engineer. ‘Are you intending to go, Copper?’
‘Best if I went,’ he said. ‘If something does happen on the way, I’ll be there to try and fix it. I’ll bring my apprentice Dot with me, if you don’t object, Achillia. She’s good enough at fixing things and there’s no one tougher.’
Achillia agreed with a nod.
‘That’s five, then,’ said Bligh.
‘Five?’ said Crimson, puzzled. ‘Grunge, Copper, Dot and me. That’s four.’
‘Brian will go of course!’ Bligh looked at his Factotum. ‘You’ll need someone to organise everything and to oversee the journey. And I’m sure he would never forgive me if I didn’t let him go.’ He beamed at Brian, who wasn’t too sure any forgiveness would have been needed. ‘And to make this truly a cooperative venture, we will choose another Beadle to go with you. Six will go to the High Mountains.’