Have Imagination, Will Travel

by Adam Carter

  “Come on,” Tarne told Sparky, quickly making her way over them. Following Kiel’s trail was easy, although the same could not have been said for stopping her.

  Their journey ended abruptly when they heard shouting coming from the next corridor. Tarne pressed herself against the wall as she peered around it. Madame Shalla was there, along with three more bodyguards, all of whom were now littering the floor. Darkthorne was there also, trying to force himself through a wall before Kiel did it for him. Kiel, angered beyond words, was squaring off against Darkthorne and seemed to be ignoring Shalla entirely.

  “What’s she doing?” Old Man Robes asked, peering through also.

  Tarne started. “Where did you ... never mind, I really don’t think I want to know. Sparky, stop Shalla from escaping, I’m going to try to calm Sara.”

  “Good luck.”

  Tarne ran into the room and almost tripped over the clothes Darkthorne had dropped. She took hold of the shirt and held it up. “Sara, is this what you want?”

  “What I want,” Kiel said venomously, “is this jerk’s head to be at least twenty feet from his body.”

  “Hi, Heather.” Darkthorne managed a dainty wave.

  “You want to kill him, Sara?” Tarne asked. “Fine, go ahead.” She ignored for the moment Darkthorne’s shocked and terrified expression. “But in this room is the one woman who can save your life.”

  Kiel jolted out of her berserker rage at this news, and she turned shocked eyes about the room, not even having realised where she was. She certainly did not recall downing the bodyguards, although could not believe anyone else had done it.

  Then her eyes landed upon Madame Shalla, and Kiel’s rage reignited.

  “Hold on a moment,” Shalla said nervously, trying to edge her way around Sparky, whose drawn knife was giving her second thoughts.

  “We have precious moments left actually,” Tarne said, “thanks to a certain someone in this room. We’ll cut you a deal though, Shalla. Give us Princes Aurellia and we might just be able to persuade Sara here to go look for her instead of tearing you apart.”

  “I ... I ... I ... There’s a village three miles downriver,” Shalla said disconsolately. “The princess came to me, asking that I rid her of her royal life. She wanted a normal existence and knew I had connections. I set her up with a nice family and they adopted her.”

  “Well they can just un-adopt her now, can’t they?” Tarne said. “Which family?”

  “The millers.”

  “Okedoke,” Tarne said, tossing Kiel her shirt. “Here, put this on. Looks like we’re going back to see a king about his daughter.”

  “That’s it?” Darkthorne asked. “We’re just taking her word on this?”

  “Much as I hate to agree with Scuzbag there,” Kiel said, “I agree with him. We can’t trust this sow with our lives, Heather.”

  “We’re not,” Tarne said. “Shalla was charged with finding the princess. The note we presented to the king passed that duty onto us. The king didn’t say we actually had to physically find her, only locate her, and we’ve done that. We’ll tell him it was Shalla herself who kidnapped the princess and we’ll tell him where she can be found. If it’s not the true location, that’s not our problem.”

  “And if Shalla flees the city?” Kiel asked.

  “Then that’ll be taken as a sign of her guilt. Besides, the reason we didn’t make a run for it was because no one escapes the king’s men, and that still applies. In short, if we go back to the king now, we can’t lose.”

  Kiel processed this for a few moments, then laughed aloud. “Heather, I do believe I like this plan of yours.”

  “Thought you might. Madame Shalla, so nice meeting you. We’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah,” Sparky said, “we might just stay on for the beheading.”

  *

  The king proved extremely grateful for the information and offered them no small reward. They already had money aplenty, however, and instead asked the king for an assignment they might undertake in his name. The king had greeted their request warmly and named them friends of the kingdom forevermore. He then dispatched them to the east.

  They set out immediately, and it was as they were leaving Bastelle behind that Kiel finally asked, “All right, someone want to tell me what we’re doing?”

  “We have a mission from the king,” Darkthorne said. “You were there, Sara, weren’t you listening to a word he said?”

  “I meant why didn’t we just take the money and run?”

  “Because we’re adventurers,” Darkthorne said, “and adventurers can’t strive without ... well, without adventure, I suppose.”

  Tarne rolled her eyes. “Jagrad, don’t be such a jerk all your life. Sara, we refused the gold and asked instead for an assignment in case Madame Shalla somehow manages to lay the blame for everything on us. If we’d taken the money and run, it would have looked worse for us, but this way I can’t see the king believing a word she says.”

  “Plus we’ve been made friends of the kingdom forevermore,” Darkthorne said, “which is pretty nifty.”

  “It’s more than pretty nifty,” Tarne said. “It means we’re now above suspicion, like the knights. All we have to do is complete this assignment and we’re laughing.”

  “Jagrad’s laughing anyway,” Kiel pointed out.

  “That’s because the man’s insane, Sara.”

  “All men are insane, Heather. Most just tend to hide it better than Jagrad.”

  “I wish we could hide Jagrad sometimes.”

  “I wish you’d just let me kill him, no sometimes about it.”

  “Hey,” Darkthorne said, “it wasn’t a man who suggested going to Madame Shalla to begin with. As I recall, Heather, you seemed quite insistent on the matter.”

  “How did I get landed with the blame exactly?” she asked, looking about her to check Old Man Robes was still with them. He had not been around much in Bastelle, and Tarne reasoned he had expected trouble there. Perhaps he was wanted for some crime or other. All she knew was that he had spent most of their time there in hiding. But not before he had insisted they enter the dwelling of Madame Shalla.

  Old Man Robes, catching her glance, laughed.

  “So what’s our mission, then?” Sparky asked.

  “You were there, weren’t you?” Kiel asked. “God knows why, considering you weren’t in any danger of being executed.”

  “He is my vassal,” Darkthorne laughed. “You are all my vassals, so far as that court back there is concerned.”

  “Vessel?” Sparky asked.

  “No,” Tarne said, “our vessel is the Princes Aur ... now why did I just say that?”

  “Because you have trouble living in the present, dear Heather,” Old Man Robes said.

  “Because Jagrad’s insanity is beginning to rub off on you,” Kiel said. “Now instead we have to go handle this Nagas threat. Like anyone has ever survived a direct assault upon the Nagas.”

  “I think that’s why the king couldn’t use his own soldiers,” Darkthorne said. “Because we’re the best.”

  “More because we’re outsiders and expendable,” Kiel said. “Man, I wish we’d just taken the money and run.”

  They walked off to the east.

  “Y’know,” Sparky said after five minutes’ silence, “I’m not sure, but judging from the amount in my pockets, I think maybe I did.”

  FUTURE CHAPTER

  A vote had been taken, and they were going to Fish City. Sparky and Darkthorne had voted that they should take their vessel, the Princess Aurellia, to Casino City so they could make some money; Kiel had voted that they should head off-world immediately (the incident with the sand worm still had her spooked); and Tarne had voted that they go to Fish City. The votes had therefore been two to one to one, although Tarne had been the one to take the initiative and override the computer, changing the passcode to something a touch less obvious than darkthorne1, and had sat at her station with her arms folded, refusing to do anything b
ut wait for the vessel to complete its check for the take-off procedure. Technically they should have done the checking manually, although they had long ago abandoned such practices so the computer could have something to do. Otherwise, they reasoned, it might get lonely and go on strike, even though it had no intelligence, could not speak and was not known for its mood-swings. It had been Darkthorne’s idea to allow it to handle everything, simply because he was a lazy good-for-nothing. The others had gone along with this because anything was better than Darkthorne conducting the checks himself.

  “Just a couple more to go,” Tarne said. “Why don’t you all just sit tight and wait it out?”

  “Because this is my vessel,” Darkthorne said, “and I would like control of her turned back over to me, thank you very much.”

  “When are you going to learn, Jagrad, you can’t control a lady.”

  “Right now I’m thinking of having one thrown out the door.”

  “I’d like to see you unlock the computer if you did, Captain.”

  “It’s still my vessel, Heather.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Dixie said, fluttering beside Tarne’s head annoyingly, “I would have voted for Fish City, too.”

  “Well it isn’t,” Tarne snapped, “now shove off.”

  Darkthorne was taken aback. “Can she say things like that on my ship?” he asked Kiel.

  “So set up a swear box,” Tarne muttered, resolute as she sat with her feet upon a chair. She made no mention of the fact she had not actually sworn. There was a click on the console to her side and a green light turned on. “Aha!” she said. “Looks like we’re on the move at last.”

  “And not a moment too soon,” Dixie the pixie said.

  The Princess lifted from the ground and shot directly upwards. Tarne steadied the craft as best she could, and Darkthorne sat at his command chair as though he was in control of his own vessel. Tarne steered the craft about and took the controls manually. The computer itself could plot courses if they allowed it to, although its navigation system was never in the best of shape and they didn’t like to trust to it. All except for Darkthorne, who seemed to thrill at the fact that if they used the navigation computer, they would never know where they would end up. Doctor Darkwho was the name Tarne had given to him after this, although he had not understood the reference and she could never be bothered to explain.

  No one spoke as the craft moved along its journey towards Fish City, but then Tarne supposed everyone was still brooding. They weren’t annoyed that she had thought to hijack the ship, only that they had not thought to do it first. Kiel was quietest of all (assuming anyone actually could be any quieter than silent, which was what they were), and Tarne suspected she believed the entire world to be covered with giant worms waiting to eat her as soon as she touched down. Of course, Tarne could not assure her that the entire planet was not filled with giant worms waiting to eat her as soon as she touched down, although she was reasonably certain this wasn’t the case.

  “Chin up, everybody,” Tarne said, trying to keep their spirits jovial, “we’ll be knee-deep in fish before you know it.”

  “Reasons to be joyful, one two three,” Kiel muttered.

  “I still say fish stink,” Darkthorne said.

  “And cats,” Kiel added.

  “Cats?” Tarne asked. “What do cats have to do with any of this?”

  “Well, we have to sell the fish to the cats, right?” Kiel asked. “And cats stink worse than the fish because they have their own smell on top of the fish smell. We take the fish to the cats and we’re compounding the stench. No wonder it’s illegal to sell fish to cats in all civilised parts of the galaxy.”

  “It is not illegal to sell fish to cats,” Tarne scoffed.

  “Well it sure should be.”

  “Cats eat fish,” Tarne said. “That’s like saying ... like saying it should be illegal to sell cheese to mice.”

  “Now you’re just being silly,” Kiel said. “Mice don’t have any concept of currency, so how could they possibly buy cheese?”

  “I’m sure they would if they could,” Darkthorne said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should try to introduce a scheme whereby we teach mice how to use money. I’m sure the banks of the galaxy would thank us for our efforts.”

  “I have a question,” Sparky said.

  “Spill it,” Tarne said, taking the craft down into the very centre of Fish City. She found a nice landing spot and settled the Princess expertly.

  “Well,” Sparky said as everyone moved towards the exit, “I’ve never met a cat who could use money, either.”

  “Whoa,” Kiel said, “never thought of that. Heather, if we buy all this fish and can’t find a cat who speaks English, what are we going to do with it all?”

  “I’ve already thought of that,” Tarne said. “There are talking, human-sized cats on Earth. There have been since the Twentieth Century. I’ve heard all about them, they live in Central London in a place called Argyll.”

  “Argyll?” Kiel asked. “Sounds kind of lame to me. Sure they’re not just people dressed up in cat suits?”

  “Why in heaven’s name would someone want to dress up in a cat suit?” Tarne asked. “Could you imagine the smell?”

  “Ha, I told you,” Darkthorne said.

  “I admitted cats smell,” Tarne said, “not the fish. You’ll have to be a bit sharper than that if you want to catch me out, my friend.”

  “You consider Jagrad your friend?” Kiel winced. “Now there’s a scary thought.”

  “Hey, standing right here?” Darkthorne said.

  “Well you shouldn’t be,” Tarne replied, shoving him towards the door. “C’mon, I want to buy some fish.”

  They stepped out into the skyport and looked around. There were people moving in every direction, for it was one of the busiest ports they had ever seen. Two dignitaries were approaching them, and Tarne suspected they must have been the people she had already contacted about their purchases. She moved forwards to greet them with a broad smile, which quickly faded as she saw them face to face. They were not returning her smile, and instead showed stern expressions of sheer violence, if an expression could ever be termed such.

  Then she saw the badges and realised they were city police.

  “I suppose it’s too late to just turn around and run for the ship?” Dixie asked, floating beside Tarne’s head.

  “Ya think?” She approached the officers nonchalantly. “Evening, constables.”

  “Constable Mane, Bane,” one of the policemen said crisply, rising on the front of his feet for some reason as he did so, then dropping back down. “Are you by any chance Captain Jagrad Darkthorne?”

  “Jagrad Darkthorne is a guy.”

  “Is that un affirmation or a negation of the statement, mudum?”

  “Darkthorne’s there. Is there a problem?”

  “That wud all depend on your business here, mudum,” Officer Mane said, rising and falling on his toes again for unexplained reasons.

  “Just come to see the sights.” Tarne smiled as best she was able, although doubted it was very convincing.

  “Sites of what, mudum?” Mane asked.

  “Sights, just whatever there is to see, Officer,” she laughed somewhat inappropriately.

  “I see.”

  “So do I.”

  “So do you what, mudum?”

  “See the sights,” Tarne said, punching the air before her face enthusiastically. “That’s why we’re here after all.”

  “I see.”

  The others had arrived by this time, and Darkthorne smiled pleasantly at the two men. “Evening, constables. Are we double-parked perhaps?”

  “Just wunderin’ at yur reasons fur being here, Captain Durkthorne,” Constable Mane said.

  “Uh, that’s Darkthorne, Constable.”

  “Fur the record, sir, it is.”

  “Just came to see a man about a fish,” Sparky said.

  “A fish, sur?” There was a gleam of interest to Mane’
s eyes now.

  “My aunt,” Darkthorne said quickly. “She’s very sick, Constable, and so we’ve come to see her. Nothing to do with fish, that Sparky’s just having a joke with you.” He laughed. “Good old Sparky, eh?”

  “Indeed, sur,” Constable Mane said. “Good uld Sparky indeed, sur. What abut the sights, sur?”

  “Well, since the contacts were put in, I’ve had twenty-twenty vision on occasion, but they’re better than the bifocals which ... you didn’t mean that, did you?”

  “The sights of the city, sur.”

  “What sights?”‘ Darkthorne asked. “What city?”

  “Ah, that Captain Darkthorne,” Tarne said, laughing feebly. “What a joker he is, a real wise guy. Even when it comes down to cops who want to arrest us and are just looking for an excuse to be able to. Ha ha, good old Darkthorne.”

  “Durkthorne with an ‘A’ fur the records,” Mane said, removing a notepad from his inside pocket to mark that down.

  “Your friend’s a tad silent, isn’t he?” Tarne asked, indicating the other constable. “Constable Bane was it?”

  “Magistrate Bane,” Constable Mane said. “Here in Fish City, constables walk hand in hand with magistrates so when we arrest a felun we cun puss sentunce immediutely.”

  “How charming,” Darkthorne said. “How do you do, Magistrate Bane?”

  “Death.”

  “Jesus H Christ!” Tarne jumped back a pace. “But we haven’t had a trial yet!”

  “We haven’t even been accused of anything yet,” Kiel said.

  “Cunflicting infurmation givun,” Constable Mane told them. “Therefure sumeone is lying and people only lie whun thuy’ve sumething to hide. Therefure yu’re guilty und sentunce hus been passed.”