by Emily Rodda
‘Be a good pot, now,’ Leo said, feeling ridiculous. ‘Conker’s tired.’ He walked on, but with every step the pot’s struggles grew more violent, and its cries grew louder, rising at last to a crescendo of ear-splitting metallic shrieks.
‘That’s it!’ bellowed Conker, stopping short. ‘That’s enough! I’d rather starve than put up with this.’
He grabbed the screaming pot from Leo. Holding it at arm’s length, he stalked to the roadside and dumped it under a tree. Then he strode back to Leo and Freda, brushing his hands together.
‘That’s that,’ he said. ‘Come on. Not far to go now.’
He began walking again, very fast. Leo and Freda hurried after him. The cooking pot’s shrieks filled the air. Leo looked back. The pot was having a full-blown tantrum, rolling around on the ground under the tree and flapping its handle hysterically.
‘How much did that thing cost, again?’ murmured Freda.
Conker stuck his clenched fists into his pockets and, chewing his moustache furiously, strode on.
The screams of the pot grew fainter, and at last Leo couldn’t hear them any more. Either he, Conker and Freda had moved out of earshot or the pot had finally exhausted itself.
The road stretched ahead of them, straight as a ruler. The birds had stopped singing and the sun was sinking rapidly. Leo saw that Freda was still glancing frequently at the sky, and remembered the conversation about the Strix.
A monster who lived in a palace in the clouds – it did sound like a fairy tale, of course. But then there were lots of things in Rondo that sounded like fairy tales and were true. And though Conker seemed determined to dismiss Peg’s warning, Freda was obviously taking it very seriously.
Leo looked at the heavy clouds building on the horizon. For an instant he thought he saw the shapes of walls and towers, and his stomach fluttered.
They’re just clouds, he told himself firmly. Cumulus clouds. Nothing else.
His father had told him all about clouds. Clouds were just collections of water vapour, and the different shapes had different names. The rounded fluffy clouds that looked as if they were made of cotton wool were cumulus clouds. The long straight ones were stratus clouds. The feathery ones were cirrus clouds. Then there were stratocumulus clouds, altocumulus clouds …
Repeating the names in his mind, Leo looked down at his feet. Gradually his stomach settled, but he still felt uneasy. He kept thinking he could hear the faint sounds of twigs snapping and leaves rustling. He thought of Peg and looked over his shoulder, but the road was deserted and he could see no movement among the trees.
Then, with shocking abruptness, the silence was shattered by a tremendous crash and the sound of splintering wood. As Leo spun round, his heart in his mouth, there was a blood-curdling shriek.
‘Stop!’ a shrill voice screamed. ‘Thieves! Cheats! Stop!’
The voice was floating from the mouth of a path that yawned beside a signpost on the right-hand side of the road not far ahead.
‘Oh, my liver and lungs!’ roared Conker, lunging forward. ‘They didn’t! Oh, tell me they didn’t …’
There was the sound of thudding feet, and the next moment two familiar figures hurtled out onto the road. A third figure, very large, was hot on their heels, screeching and swearing.
‘Mimi!’ Conker bellowed. ‘Bertha!’
Mimi and Bertha pelted towards him. Bertha’s eyes were wild. The frills of her pillowcase scarf whipped around her head and she was carrying a large pink bag in her teeth. Mimi was staggering under the weight of several bulging carrier bags marked Dinah’s.
Their pursuer, an immensely fat woman in a stained red velvet dressing gown and a red turban, caught sight of Conker and Freda and skidded to a halt, glaring malevolently. Leo thought he’d never seen such an unpleasant-looking person. Her dressing gown was stiff with dirt and crumbs and the edge of her turban was black with grease. What made her particularly repellent, however, were her tiny, malicious eyes and her thin grey lips, which reminded Leo irresistibly of a metal trap.
‘You again!’ she snarled at Conker, as Mimi and Bertha dropped their burdens with relief and collapsed on the ground. ‘I tell you we haven’t seen Spoiler! Why don’t you leave us alone?’
‘And a very good evening to you too, Misery,’ Conker replied coldly.
‘It’s Mistress Merk to you, Master Impertinence,’ the woman snapped. ‘And these thieving friends of yours owe Grim and me for two drinks plus a broken door, so pay up!’
‘You’re not getting a dib out of me,’ said Conker. ‘Take yourself off.’
‘That criminal pig broke down the door of the ladies’ lounge!’ shouted Misery. ‘And she knocked Grim flat!’
‘I had no choice,’ Bertha cried. ‘They were keeping us prisoner!’
‘They said we couldn’t leave till we gave them all the bags of food, because we didn’t have any money,’ Mimi gasped. ‘And we hadn’t even asked for a drink! We just went in to sit down.’
‘We run a tavern, missie, not a waiting room!’ spat Misery Merk. ‘You come in, you’re expected to have a drink. That’s how it is.’
‘There were dot crumbs in mine,’ Bertha said. ‘Also a hair. I’m not accustomed to drinks of that sort.’
‘Well, I’m not accustomed to having dirty great pigs sprawling all over my good lounge!’ shrieked Misery Merk. ‘So there! Ha!’
‘You’re a really, really horrible person, you know,’ panted Mimi. Her eyes were narrow. Her fists were tightly clenched.
Misery Merk smiled smugly. Instantly a very large, very angry-looking pimple appeared on the end of her nose. Leo clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a yell of shock.
‘What are you staring at, Goggle-eyes?’ jeered Misery, apparently unaware of any change in her appearance. She turned away and began stomping back towards the path.
Leo looked at Mimi. She met his eyes defiantly.
She did it, he thought in shock. Mimi made that pimple appear. And that means … she’s got the Key! Somehow she gave Bertha the slip and went back for it. And I’ll bet that’s what she meant to do all along!
Anger swept through him. He told himself that he should have known. Never had he met anyone as stubborn and irresponsible as Mimi Langlander. She’d do anything, anything at all, to get her own way.
He looked quickly around. To his relief, none of the others had noticed what had happened.
‘You’d better watch it, you lot!’ Misery shouted over her shoulder as she reached the signpost. ‘There’s a big brown bear prowls these parts at night, you know. Not to mention the S-word.’
‘What?’ squeaked Bertha.
‘Oho!’ Misery hooted. ‘Not so snooty now, are you? Oh, yes, the S-word’s on the prowl, they say, looking for new exhibits for its Collection. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if it came down for the likes of you, either. It likes weirdos.’ She spat contemptuously and lumbered off into the shadows.
‘Lawks-a-daisy!’ quavered Bertha, as Conker began stuffing the food bags into Leo’s pack. ‘I’ve never been so glad to get out of anywhere in my life – and that includes the Blue Queen’s castle. Why in Rondo was the meeting place changed? You’ve had bad ideas before, Conker, but if this one wasn’t the worst ever, I’m a mushroom.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Leo, Freda and Conker shouted together.
Bertha gaped at them.
Conker cleared his throat. ‘We’ve got a lot to tell you,’ he mumbled. ‘And we will tell you – when we’re on our way.’
‘You’ll tell us right now!’ Bertha snapped. ‘After all we’ve been through –’
‘You were supposed to meet us at the signpost!’ Conker broke in crossly. ‘Blood and bones, everyone knows not to go into the Tavern of No Return!’
‘Well, we didn’t,’ Bertha retorted. ‘Oh, that place was filthy! It must be crawling with germs. And I’ve got a nasty feeling the sofa had fleas.’ She scratched her side thoughtfully.
‘Why do you think it’s called th
e Tavern of No Return?’ said Conker, pushing the filled pack over to Leo. ‘One visit’s enough for anyone.’
‘Except Spoiler,’ said Freda. ‘He used to –’ She broke off, cocked her head as if listening, then swung round to stare at the bushes on the other side of the road, opposite the signpost. ‘Something’s moving in there,’ she warned.
‘Aha!’ Conker exclaimed. He shouldered his pack, darted across the road and, beckoning excitedly, vanished into the bushes. The others cautiously followed.
‘Misery Merk said a bear lived around here,’ Mimi whispered.
‘I’d put bears right out of my mind if I were you,’ Leo muttered savagely, and she shot him a look that was a strange mixture of guilt, fear and resentment.
They emerged from the bushes to find themselves in what seemed to be a small field. It was very dim now, but Leo could see an uneven whitish gleam on the ground not far away. A darker shadow moved beside the gleam. It was Conker, still beckoning furiously.
‘What’s he up to now?’ Freda complained. ‘Oh, I’m getting too old for this!’ She darted forward.
As Leo, Mimi and Bertha crept after her, they distinctly heard leaves rustling somewhere ahead. Mimi drew a quick breath and stopped short.
‘It’s not a bear!’ Leo snapped, sincerely hoping it wasn’t.
‘And it can’t be the – the thing Misery mentioned,’ Bertha whispered. ‘The S–T–R–I–X doesn’t hide in bushes.’ But Leo noticed that she glanced nervously at the sky all the same.
‘Come on!’ Conker called impatiently.
‘Conker, watch out!’ Leo called back. ‘There’s something …’
His voice trailed off. Mimi and Bertha squeaked in surprise. They’d all finally seen what the whitish gleam on the ground beside Conker was.
It was a black-and-white-patterned rug, exactly like the rug in Leo’s room at home. It was hovering fastidiously just above the lank grass, its fringe fluttering slightly. Freda was already sitting on it, rocking gently, her wings peacefully folded.
‘The flying rug!’ Bertha squealed in delight.
Conker was grinning broadly. ‘What do you think of my surprise?’ he crowed, patting the rug. ‘I got Polly and Jim to send it to meet us here. It’s been with them since it took the ex-swans home from the Blue Queen’s castle, you know.’
Leo hadn’t known. He hadn’t even thought about what had happened to the flying rug that had saved his life during his first visit to Rondo.
Mimi ran to the rug and climbed on with Bertha’s pink bag. Leo loaded his pack and then got on himself. As he felt the familiar, rippling sensation beneath him, visions of the Blue Queen’s cruel smile flooded his mind. He pushed them away.
‘What a brilliant idea, Conker! I hope Polly and Jim don’t mind lending it to us,’ said Bertha, climbing onto the rug in her turn. The rug dipped under her weight, then straightened again.
‘Oh, no,’ said Conker. ‘Hal says it’s been giving them a bit of trouble lately, as a matter of fact. Restless, you know. Curling up so furniture falls over, thrashing around at night and keeping the family awake, and so on.’
He clambered onto the rug and settled himself next to Freda. ‘Polly and Jim haven’t got time to exercise it properly, that’s the trouble,’ he went on. ‘And of course they can’t let it outside by itself in case it goes wild in the forest. Feral rugs can do a lot of damage. Still, this trip should tire it out and settle it down for a while.’
He looked around happily. ‘Everyone sitting comfortably? Right, then. Rug – to Hobnob, if you please!’
As the words left his lips, and the rug slowly began to rise, there was a shriek from the bushes. Something round and black shot from the shadows, hitting Conker squarely in the chest. He fell back, gasping. The rug rocked violently.
‘Conkie!’ shrieked the cooking pot, wrapping its legs tightly around Conker’s waist and bouncing up and down. ‘Don’t leave me, Conkie! Take me with you!’
Chapter 10
Night Riders
Dipping and flapping wildly, but intent on following its orders, the rug rose into the night sky. Conker bellowed, his roars punctuated by oomphirig sounds as the cooking pot bounced on his stomach. Freda, her wings spread wide as she struggled for balance, snapped at the pot’s legs, trying to make it loosen its grip. Clinging helplessly to the bucking rug, Mimi, Bertha and Leo could do nothing but watch as the wind whistled around them, tearing at their clothes and hair.
Leo knew that their situation was perilous. He knew that any minute he might lose his grip, slide off the rug, and plummet to the ground that was now so terrifyingly far away. He knew that Mimi, Bertha and Conker were in exactly the same danger. And yet instead of yelling in fear he was laughing. He couldn’t help it – it was all so absurd.
‘Stop laughing!’ Mimi shrieked. ‘Leo, are you mad?’
‘Leo, what’s that thing on top of Conker?’ Bertha squealed.
‘It’s a – cooking pot!’ Leo gasped, then drew up his knees as another gale of laughter overwhelmed him. He clung to the fringe of the rug, his stomach aching, tears streaming down his face.
‘Well, really!’ Bertha snapped. ‘Rug! Stop climbing! Go down!’
The rug didn’t respond. Either it couldn’t hear Bertha’s voice over the sound of Conker’s roars or it was too flurried by the struggle in its centre to pay attention.
‘Get – Oomph – off me!’ shouted Conker. With a tremendous effort he rolled over, pinning the cooking pot beneath him and nearly crushing Freda, who flew out of the way just in time. The rug tipped dangerously.
‘Eeek!’ Bertha shrieked as she began to slide down the steep slope, her front trotters scrabbling uselessly, her sunglasses falling from her nose. In an instant, her back legs were kicking in the air beyond the rug’s fluttering fringe.
The laughter died in Leo’s throat. He flung himself towards Bertha, clinging to the rug with one hand and reaching out with the other. Mimi moved at the same moment. They both managed to catch hold of a ruffle of Bertha’s scarf. The terrible downward slide stopped, but Bertha’s back legs still hung perilously over the edge of the rug. ‘Pull me back!’ she squealed.
But Leo and Mimi couldn’t. She was far too heavy. All they could do was hang on.
‘Oh, lawks!’ Bertha wailed. ‘Oh, do something, quickly! The ruffles won’t hold! The stitches will break. You won’t–’
Mimi screamed. In horror Leo saw that the ruffle she was gripping had begun to tear away from the main part of the pillowcase in a long, frilly strip. At the same moment, he distinctly felt threads breaking beneath his hands, and his own part of the ruffle began to pull away. Bertha slid further over the edge.
‘Conker!’ Leo yelled, looking over his shoulder.
Conker was beyond hearing anything. He was facedown on the rug, punching the sides of the cooking pot beneath him, trying to make it loosen its grip. But Freda, fluttering over Conker’s head, heard Leo’s cry. She looked around and took in the situation instantly. Without hesitation she flattened her wings and dived at Conker’s back, straight as a spear.
Her beak stabbed the sole of the cooking pot’s right foot. The cooking pot howled and let go. Conker bellowed in triumph and sat up.
‘Conker!’ Bertha, Leo and Mimi shouted together.
‘Help!’
Conker turned to face them. His eyes bulged in horror. He lunged across the rug and took hold of Bertha’s front trotters. ‘Heave!’ he yelled.
His strength made all the difference. In moments Bertha was lying fully on the rug again, gasping and shaking but safe, with the ruffles of her pillowcase scarf tangled around her head like frilly pink streamers.
Leo sat up, weak with relief. Conker was flat on his back, panting hard. On Bertha’s other side, Mimi had collapsed into a trembling heap.
And only then did Leo remember the Key. Why hadn’t Mimi used the Key to save Bertha? Even Hal wouldn’t have objected to her using it for something so important.
Mimi’s han
ds were pressed to her eyes. A ragged strip of pink ruffle was still caught between her fingers. Leo remembered her terror as they struggled to hold Bertha, remembered her agonised scream as the ruffles started to tear away …
And in an instant of clarity he suddenly knew exactly what had happened, and understood why Mimi was still curled up with her hands over her eyes.
Conker groaned, sat up, and glowered at the cooking pot. It was whimpering in the centre of the rug with Freda, looking very severe, on guard beside it.
‘Right!’ Conker growled. He began crawling towards the pot with a murderous look in his eye.
‘Sore, Conkie!’ the pot wailed, holding up its bruised foot. ‘Kiss better?’
Conker bared his teeth. ‘The only kissing to be done around here is when you kiss the ground, cooking pot,’ he snarled. ‘You’ve made my life a misery for the last time.’ He grabbed the pot’s handle and swung his arm back. The pot shrieked piteously.
‘No, Conker!’ Leo begged. Abandoning the cooking pot by the side of the road was one thing. Throwing it screaming from a great height was another. It seemed like murder.
Conker scowled. ‘It’s just a cooking pot, Leo!’ he snapped. ‘A cooking pot – and a faulty one at that!’
‘It – it might hit someone,’ Leo stammered, seizing on the only argument that he thought Conker might accept. ‘If it fell on someone’s head it could kill them!’
‘He’s right, you know,’ Freda said regretfully.
Conker sighed and lowered his arm. He set the cooking pot on the rug again. The cooking pot gave a squeak and rolled over with its legs in the air. Conker nudged it with his foot, but it didn’t move.
‘Fainted,’ said Freda with contempt.
‘Well, that’ll keep it quiet for the moment, anyway,’ said Conker. ‘We’ll get rid of it in Hobnob.’
‘Will someone please tell me what’s been going on?’ Bertha interrupted. She had managed to sit up and was blinking dazedly in the wind. Mimi had moved a little away from her and was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin, her shoulders hunched defensively.
