The Wizard of Rondo

by Emily Rodda

  Muffy Clogg blinked shortsightedly in Bertha’s direction, her rosebud mouth hanging slightly open. Clearly she was utterly bewildered.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ Conker bellowed. ‘Bing’s been collected!’

  ‘No!’ gasped Muffy Clogg. ‘You mean Wizard Bing came back?’

  ‘The woman’s feeble-minded,’ Conker said under his breath.

  But Leo had just been struck by an idea so wonderful that it almost took his breath away. ‘Mistress Clogg!’ he called urgently. ‘When did the cloud palace arrive in Hobnob?’

  Muffy Clogg’s cheeks were now bright pink with indignation. ‘Early this evening, it was,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Around sunset. It came down right over Tiger’s Glen. It wasn’t at all a nice thing to happen – very bad for business, and very bad for my nerves, which –’

  ‘What?’ exploded Conker. ‘The palace only arrived a few hours ago? But … Bing disappeared last night! Oh, my heart, liver, lungs and gizzards – if Bing wasn’t even here when the palace came down, how could he have been collected?’

  Muffy Clogg had clasped both hands over her heart. ‘Well, I’m sure there’s no need for you to shout at me, Master Conker,’ she said in a high, trembling voice. ‘You were the one who said Wizard Bing had been collected.’

  ‘She’s right, you know,’ muttered Freda.

  Conker’s eyes bulged. ‘I apologise, madam,’ he mumbled to the pink-faced woman. ‘It seems our deductions were, for once, incorrect. Wizard Bing is not in the cloud palace after all.’

  ‘Then where is he?’ wailed Muffy Clogg, wringing her plump little hands. ‘Oh mercy, my nerves can’t take much more of this!’

  ‘Muffy, my love, what’s keeping you?’ a male voice called plaintively from somewhere behind her. ‘Who is it?’

  Muffy Clogg gave a little start of alarm. ‘No one, dearest,’ she trilled over her shoulder.

  She leaned a little further out of the window. ‘You can stay at the Snug tonight,’ she whispered. ‘It’s right beside Tiger’s Glen, but I’m sure you’re so brave you won’t mind that.’ She pointed vaguely over their heads, in the direction of the looming cloud towers.

  ‘But – but –’ Conker spluttered.

  ‘Come back tomorrow,’ the woman said. ‘Not too early, mind. And don’t come through the shop. Use our private door – the green one with the brass knocker. Good evening to you.’

  She jerked her head back, pulling the shutters closed behind her with a click. It was exactly like seeing a cuckoo pop back into a cuckoo clock.

  ‘Well, I like that!’ growled Conker.

  ‘How rude!’ exclaimed Bertha. ‘Imagine her treating us like that! When we were just about to risk our lives, too!’

  Freda gave a quack of laughter. ‘She just doesn’t want her husband to find out she’s hired us. Clogg thinks her nephew’s a hopeless case, so she knows he won’t want to spend money on trying to prove he’s innocent.’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ Conker began crossly. ‘But –’ ‘There’s no big rush now, remember,’ Leo broke in, trying not to sound too happy about it. ‘Bing can’t be in the cloud palace. We don’t have to go and save him any more.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ exclaimed Bertha, cheering up a little. ‘So we don’t have to face certain death after all. Well, that’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll be grateful when we can have a bite to eat,’ muttered Freda. ‘And I wouldn’t say no to a roof over my head and a locked door, either. That cloud gives me the spooks. Let’s find the Snug quick smart.’

  ‘We’ll have to take the rug,’ Conker said gloomily. ‘We can’t leave it parked in the square all night.’

  They trooped wearily back to the flying rug. When they reached it they found that the cooking pot had recovered from its faint and was sitting up, leaning weakly against Conker’s pack.

  ‘Foot very sore, Conkie,’ the pot whined, lifting one of its legs pathetically. Freda snapped her beak and it shrank away from her.

  ‘Poor thing,’ said Bertha, as she, Mimi and Leo took their places among the luggage. ‘Don’t be too hard on it.’

  Conker snorted. He climbed onto the rug himself, and sat down as far away from the cooking pot as he could. The rug’s fringe quivered and it bulged slightly in the middle as if readying itself for a quick take-off.

  ‘Listen to me, rug!’ Conker said sternly. ‘We’re going to the Hobnob Snug. You’re to rise gently, fly smoothly, and when we get there, you’re to land slowly. No nonsense, or it will be the worse for you. Dot-swatters make good carpet beaters, you know, and I’ve got two of them!’

  The rug stiffened sulkily, but it rose quite sedately into the air, sailed over the square, and began to glide silently over the rooftops towards the edge of the village. The glimmering towers of the cloud palace loomed closer and closer. Leo saw that Mimi was staring at them, transfixed, and wished very much that the Snug had been in the opposite direction.

  ‘Is that it?’ Bertha shrilled, looking over the side of the rug.

  Clusters of lights twinkled below, and a faintly illuminated sign read: OB OB NUG – VA A CY.

  ‘Hobnob Snug – Vacancy,’ Leo interpreted, filling in the letters that were missing because of glow-worms on sick leave.

  Mimi stirred. ‘Now that we’ve come this far, why don’t we take a closer look at the cloud palace before we settle down for the night?’ she suggested lightly. ‘Just in case –’

  ‘No!’ Conker, Bertha, Freda and Leo shouted. Mimi’s casual tone hadn’t deceived anyone. Everyone could see that her fascination with the cloud palace hadn’t grown any less. If anything, it had strengthened.

  ‘Put it out of your mind, Mimi!’ Conker ordered, as she pressed her lips together in annoyance. ‘I was right all along. The cloud palace has nothing to do with us, so none of us is going anywhere near it, and that’s final.’

  He raised his voice. ‘Rug! Snug below! Commence your landing.’

  Chapter 12

  The Snug

  The rug had obviously taken Conker’s dot-swatter threat to heart. Its smooth descent towards the round field of worn grass at the centre of the Hobnob Snug was as different as possible from its stomach-churning drop into the town square.

  ‘Well, this is nice!’ Conker said with satisfaction as the rug sank decorously between the whispering tips of the giant trees that ringed the grass. ‘And a fine piece of luck too. I hadn’t expected to be able to stay here. I thought we’d have to make do with a bed in the tavern. Ah, there’s nothing I like better than a Snug.’

  ‘I’ve never been so keen on them, personally,’ said Bertha, wrinkling her nose. ‘A bed in a tavern would have suited me.’

  Leo, who had decided by this time that ‘Snug’ was just a Rondo name for a camping area, silently agreed with her.

  We don’t even have a tent, he thought glumly, as the smoky scents of campfire cooking drifted to his nose and he began to hear the muffled sounds of music and the faint, high-pitched squeals of children far below. Like Bertha and Freda, he had been looking forward to sleeping between four sturdy walls and behind a locked door. The night wasn’t cold, but the idea of spending it in the open air while the Strix’s palace loomed so near was nerve-racking, especially with Mimi acting so strangely.

  He stole a glance at Mimi, wondering if she was still angry, and saw that clearly she was. She was staring into space, her mouth set into that straight, stubborn line that was only too familiar.

  She’s so annoying! Leo thought in irritation. She’s always complaining about being treated like a baby, so why is she acting like one? She’s curious about the cloud palace. Well, so am I. But I’ve got more sense than to want to go near it.

  He was just about to look away when he saw Mimi’s eyes widen, and her tight mouth fall open in surprise. Quickly he turned his head to see what had startled her, and his mouth dropped open in turn.

  The trees of the Hobnob Snug might have looked like any other trees from above, but now
Leo could see that they were far from ordinary. Sprouting from the thickest of their gnarled, spreading branches – actually growing out of the living wood like weird, upright fruit – were small, perfect, nut-brown cabins, each with a rounded roof and walls, two round windows like knot-holes, and a round front door. Light shone from some of the windows, and Leo could see the shadows of people moving about.

  He was still staring up in astonishment when the rug completed its landing, settling to rest beside an old stone well with a wooden bucket and a canopy that looked like the cap of a red-and-white spotted toadstool.

  ‘Very good,’ Conker told the rug. The rug’s fringe fluttered modestly.

  The field seemed deserted. Small fireplaces made of stones were spaced evenly around it, but only one fire was still glowing. The smell of fried onions and slightly singed sausages drifted in the air.

  A plump little man carrying a large clipboard emerged from the shadows behind the fire and trotted towards them, hastily pushing the end of a sausage into his mouth. He was wearing a woolly green dressing gown and a close-fitting green cap with ear flaps that hung below his chin.

  ‘That’ll be the caretaker,’ Conker muttered. ‘Now, whatever you do, be polite. Snug caretakers can be very picky. We don’t want him to take against us.’

  Everyone clambered from the rug. The cooking pot jumped up eagerly and began to follow, apparently forgetting all about its sore foot.

  ‘Stay!’ Conker ordered, pointing at the pot and scowling. The cooking pot seemed about to argue, then obviously thought better of it and sank back down against the pack, muttering to itself.

  As the little man reached the rug, fussily dabbing at his lips with a green-spotted table napkin, Leo saw that the ‘clipboard’ was actually a piece of bark covered in fuzzy black writing. The writing seemed to be some sort of list. Many of the entries were smudged, and there were many crossings-out.

  ‘Welcome to the Hobnob Snug, ladies and gentlemen,’ the little man squeaked, in a perfect gale of sausage and onions. Everyone took a quick step back, but fortunately he didn’t notice. He was looking with interest at the hovering rug.

  ‘That is a most interesting conveyance, if I may say so,’ he said. ‘As I watched you land I said to myself, I have never seen a flying carpet with a pattern quite like that before, I said. And I never have, you know. Most unusual.’

  ‘We’d like to stay here tonight, if you please,’ Conker said, carefully keeping his distance as the little man turned towards him again. ‘Possibly tomorrow night as well.’

  ‘Certainly, certainly,’ said the little man. ‘That can be arranged. I am Woodley, the Snug caretaker – caretaker, you know.’ He suddenly became aware that he was still holding the table napkin, and tucked it quickly into his dressing-gown pocket.

  ‘I was just having a tiny bite of supper – supper, you know,’ he said self-consciously. ‘And thinking of my bed, to tell you the truth. I said to myself, it is far too late for any more visitors to arrive tonight, I said. But here you are, here you are. And most welcome – most welcome, you know.’

  Bertha’s stomach rumbled loudly. Everyone pretended not to notice except Freda, who laughed coarsely, earning a warning scowl from Conker and a haughty stare from Woodley.

  ‘Pardon,’ Bertha murmured.

  ‘It’s lucky for us that you have some vacancies,’ Conker said hurriedly. He looked around at the trees, many of which were dark and silent in contrast to the lighted trees from which faint squeals and chatter could still be heard.

  ‘It is most unusual at this time of year,’ Woodley responded, looking very put out. ‘Most unusual, you know. But as perhaps you may have noticed a – ahem – a small unpleasantness has occurred in Tiger’s Glen.’

  He pursed his lips and jerked his head slightly towards the place where the sinister towers of the cloud palace spiked into the darkness of the sky above the treetops.

  ‘It’d be hard to miss it,’ Freda said dryly.

  ‘Yes,’ Woodley sighed. ‘Imagine the Snug having such a neighbour! In school holiday time, too – holiday time, you know! And Tiger’s Glen is a most beautiful little woodlet, filled with the most unusual wildflowers and birdlife and one of our most famous tourist attractions. A large group of children on a nature tour spent the day there only today. Tourists may stay as long as they like in the Glen, provided they do not stray off the marked paths – the paths, you know. Fortunately the children and their leaders had returned to the Snug before the – ahem – unpleasantness occurred, or the results could have been … yes, well …’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I did explain to our visitors that there was no danger here in the Snug – no danger at all,’ he went on. ‘The public picnic area lies between the Snug and Tiger’s Glen, after all. All you have to do is keep away from the Glen, I said, and you will be perfectly safe. But …’

  He shrugged hopelessly and tapped his list with its many crossings-out.

  ‘The vacant trees are very upset,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘Snug trees take things very personally. They can’t cope with rejection – with rejection, you know. Well, most of us are just the same way, aren’t we?’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Freda. ‘Listen, can we just get on with this? We need to get a fire going and rustle up some grub.’

  Bertha’s stomach growled in ferocious agreement.

  Woodley looked down his nose. ‘Well, really –’ he began.

  ‘At least some families decided to stay, Master Woodley,’ Leo said quickly.

  ‘What? Oh, yes,’ said Woodley, turning to him with exaggerated courtesy after giving Freda and Bertha a last, hard stare. ‘About half of them stayed, determined not to spoil their holiday, and to ignore the – ahem – unpleasantness as far as possible – as far as possible, you know. Very sensible, as I told them. But I fear the children are all extremely overexcited. I hope they don’t wake you too early. I will put you as far away from them as I can – as far away as I can, you know. Now, shall we get on? I can see that some members of your party are becoming impatient.’

  He consulted his list, running his finger down the entries and smudging them even further. ‘Mirth is the most isolated,’ he murmured, ‘but unfortunately Mirth only has the one cabin – one cabin, you know – and I gave that to another unexpected visitor who arrived not long ago. A single gentleman – a very charming fellow, very charming.’

  Leo’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘He was most interested in hearing about the problems we’re having here,’ Woodley continued, shooting a reproachful look at Freda, who yawned and closed her eyes.

  ‘This gentleman,’ Leo asked, as casually as he could. ‘Is he – quite tall, with dark, wavy hair?’

  ‘Oh, no indeed,’ said Woodley, studying his list. ‘The gentleman in Mirth is of ordinary height – of about my height, you know. Quite ordinary. Perfect for Mirth, whose cabin is not as large as some.’

  His eyes brightened and he looked up. ‘Are you perhaps expecting another friend to join you?’ he asked hopefully. ‘Should I wait up a little longer?’

  ‘No, no,’ Conker said firmly, shooting Leo a reproving look. ‘We’re not expecting anyone else.’

  ‘Ah.’ Woodley looked disappointed, then gave a little sigh and returned to his list. ‘All Glee’s cabins are vacant,’ he murmured. ‘All her cabins, you know. But sadly the folk who were staying in the largest of them left in such a hurry that they forgot to pack their snake.’

  ‘Snake!’ Bertha squeaked.

  ‘It’s in there somewhere,’ Woodley said, shaking his head in annoyance. ‘It was asleep when I popped in to tidy the place up – asleep, you know, coiled around the lamp stand – Glee does not have central lighting, unfortunately – but I’m afraid I startled it when I opened the door. It hissed at me very rudely then slid away and hid, quick as a flash – quick as a flash, you know. I wasn’t able to find it, though I wasted a lot of time searching. It has probably gone back to sleep by now, but it was rather bad-tempe
red, and very large for a six-fanged rock serpent – very large indeed – so perhaps we had better leave Glee unoccupied for the moment.’

  ‘Perhaps we’d better,’ Leo agreed fervently. He glanced at Mimi, hoping she wasn’t imagining large snakes with six fangs, and was relieved to see that she appeared not to have heard what Woodley had said. She had wandered over to the well and was peering curiously over the side.

  ‘Yes,’ Woodley murmured, running his finger down the list again. ‘Poor dear Glee. I really wish people would be more careful – more careful, you know. It’s so awkward when they leave their belongings behind. Do you know, there is not a single vacant Safe Place left in the whole of the Snug? Generations of forgetful guests have filled them all. Most inconvenient! Ah, here we are. Bliss!’

  He turned and pointed to a huge tree standing a little back from the clearing. As he did so, Leo saw with a shock that two stubby wings protruded from neatly bound openings in the back of his green dressing gown.

  ‘Bliss would be ideal for you – ideal, you know,’

  Woodley chattered on, turning back to blast his guests with his sausage and onion breath once more. ‘She is one of our older Snug members, and has two cabins quite close together on the one branch – on the one branch, you know. You will need to take two, won’t you? Some of you are rather large.’

  He eyed Bertha. She returned his stare indignantly, but couldn’t speak because she was holding her breath.

  ‘Rather large, you know,’ Woodley repeated, absent-mindedly patting his own round belly.

  Bertha tossed her head, turned and stalked away to join Mimi at the well.

  ‘The Bliss cabins are our deluxe accommodation,’ Woodley ran on, apparently oblivious to the fact that he’d insulted one of his guests. ‘Their features include central lighting, a double fireplace, dot-proof curtains and goose-feather quilts.’

  ‘Goose feathers?’ muttered Freda. ‘What’s so deluxe about them?’