The Garden of Unearthly Delights

by Robert Rankin

  ‘Without their knowledge,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘They still have all their knowledge, but they take an oath of allegiance not to reveal the whereabouts of the University. And they’re very loyal. They understand the importance of this institution for the future of this world. You won’t find an adult out there who’ll give you directions to this University. How did you find your way here, by the by?’

  ‘A child of nine told me,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘That shouldn’t have happened. The boys are supposed to be kept under the guidance of their grandmothers, who are trained in the art of Percussive Perlocution. Is the child here with you?’

  ‘No,’ lied Maxwell. ‘I came here on my own.’

  The count raised a hairless eyebrow. ‘I think, may-chance, that you speak an untruth.’

  ‘If it’s a lie, then it’s in good company. Because I think that all you’ve just told me is a pack of bullshit.’

  ‘Indeed?’ The count puffed once more on his cigarette. ‘Well, your opinions are no business of mine. I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave now. Something most important has come up and requires my full attention.’

  ‘I’m not leaving without Ewavett,’ said Maxwell. ‘I cannot leave without Ewavett.’

  ‘Well, you’re welcome to look all around the University,’ said the Count. ‘If you can find this Ewavett, then please take her. I would gladly help you search, but the important something will not keep.’

  ‘And what important something is this?’

  The count sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. ‘For several days now strange events have occurred at the University. Pockets of non-causality in the corridors. Bad poetry springing from nowhere. Hallucinatory episodes. Then today, something that if you are this “Flashman” you witnessed with your own eyes: an entire boys’ cricket team metamorphosed into a pagan pantheon of animal gods. The only explanation for these curious circumstances that I can think of is one of such far-reaching implication that the very thought sends shudders through me.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Maxwell asked.

  ‘That somehow the unthinkable has occurred and someone has smuggled magic through the grid.’

  Maxwell’s hand strayed towards his simply splendid coat pocket, wherein lay MacGuffin’s pouch. ‘And this would be a bad thing, would it?’

  ‘Disastrous. The natural laws of the red world are not our natural laws. Live magic here could trigger a chain reaction, destroy everyone and everything.’

  ‘That’s a slight exaggeration, surely?’

  ‘A room full of gun powder is as safe as milk, until you add a single spark.’

  ‘And a single spark of magic could—’ Maxwell mimed an explosion with his non-gun-toting hand.

  ‘Chaos. Natural laws overturned. Death and destruction.’

  ‘Good grief,’ said Maxwell. ‘Are you really serious?’

  ‘Never more so,’ said the count. ‘I am having the University thoroughly searched. If the magic accoutrement is here, then possibly it can be neutralized in some way to spare millions from a horrifying death.’

  ‘A horrifying death?’

  ‘Horrifying. So you understand the urgency of the situation?’

  ‘I do,’ said Maxwell, nodding his head.

  ‘Listen,’ said the count. ‘This Ewavett of yours. You say she is a metal woman.’

  ‘MacGuffin says she is an automaton. But I believe she is something much more.

  ‘And who is MacGuffin?’

  ‘A magician in the red world.’

  ‘Heavens above. You have met a magician?’

  ‘More than met. MacGuffin has taken my soul. He will not return it to me unless I bring him Ewavett.’

  ‘Taken your soul? Can such a thing be possible?’

  Maxwell nodded gloomily.

  ‘Horrifying,’ said the count. ‘All magic is horrifying.’

  ‘It is,’ said Maxwell. ‘I can vouch for that.’

  ‘Tell you what.’ The count drummed his fingers on the desk top. ‘A thought occurs to me. Sir John had a very large collection of bizarre items. I believe that several automata were numbered amongst this. His collection is now boxed up in the basement. There is a list somewhere.’

  ‘There is?’ said Maxwell. ‘Where?’

  ‘In the cupboard over there I think.’

  Maxwell leapt from his seat. ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’

  ‘Please help yourself. If this Ewavett is amongst the collection you are welcome to take her. Sir John has no further use for any such thing.’

  ‘Splendid.’ Maxwell tucked his gun into one of his belts. He crossed the room and flung open the cupboard door.

  There was a click and a whirring sound. Bands of metal sprung out from the cupboard, secured Maxwell’s hands to his sides, clamped his legs, fastened about his throat.

  Held him good and fast.

  ‘Ever been had?’ asked Count Waldeck.

  23

  ‘You bastard!’ Maxwell raged and struggled, but all to no avail. The count strolled over to the cupboard and turned a little handle on the side. Cogs engaged and Maxwell swivelled around to face the grinning villain.

  ‘You bastard!’ he continued. ‘You lied to me.’

  ‘I never lied to you at all. Well, hardly, at all. I did lie when I said that I didn’t know who you were. And I did neglect to mention that the boys swear allegiance because I demonstrate to them the extent of my magic and what will happen should they defy me.’

  ‘Let me free,’ raged Maxwell. ‘Let me free this instant.

  ‘Don’t be absurd. I must say that I’m impressed with you though. You’re the first of MacGuffin’s minions ever to reach here. Tell me, does the fool still sport a ring through his nose?’

  Maxwell nodded.

  ‘I put it there. Fecund as a bull, that MacGuffin.’

  Maxwell continued with the fruitless straining. ‘Would I be correct’, he asked, ‘in supposing that you also lied to me about Ewavett?’

  ‘Yeah, well, perhaps.’

  ‘And the matter of Sir John’s senility?’

  ‘Yes, that too.’

  ‘And that magic coming through the grid would bring this world to an end?’

  ‘I’m a villain,’ said the count. ‘I lie about all sorts of stuff. Do you think I look a bit like Joss Ackland?’

  ‘No,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘So,’ said the count, ‘the big question is, what should I do with you now?’

  ‘You could set me free,’ Maxwell suggested.

  ‘That features rather low on the list of alternatives. Right at the very bottom, in fact.’

  ‘And what is at the top?’

  ‘Pulling this little lever on the side of the cupboard and having the steel bands crush the life out of you.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Maxwell. ‘What’s next on the list?’

  ‘Perhaps I might employ you.’

  ‘That is a fine idea. Release the bands at once.’

  ‘I could dispatch you to MacGuffin, have you bring Aodhamm here to me.’

  Maxwell groaned. ‘MacGuffin holds my soul,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yes. I’ve taken that into consideration. I’d have to remove something else from you. Something that would encourage a speedy return on your part.’

  ‘I have nothing left for anyone to take.’

  ‘Not altogether true. I have magic at my disposal. I know of a spell that could remove your genitalia.’

  ‘What?’ Maxwell made that gagging sound again.

  ‘Snatch off your old John Thomas. I’d keep it safe for you, pickled in a jar beneath my bed.’

  ‘No!’ said Maxwell. ‘No. No. No!’

  ‘Oh well, it was only a thought.’

  ‘What else do you have on the list?’ Maxwell asked.

  ‘Just the pulling-the-lever alternative, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’m sure we could think of something else, if we both put our minds to it.

  ‘Where is the magical acc
outrement MacGuffin gave you?’

  ‘I lost it,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘Really? And yet when I spoke to you of the terrible consequences of magic being brought into this world, I’ll swear your hand strayed towards your coat pocket. This coat pocket.’ The count dug his hand in and removed the magic pouch. ‘My pouch!’ he declared. ‘I wondered where that had gone.’

  Maxwell grinned a foolish face.

  ‘Now let’s see what we have inside.’

  ‘It’s empty,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘Really, once more. And yet I’m prepared to bet it contains one small boy.’ The count opened the pouch, turned it upside down and gave it a shake. Out tumbled Maxwell’s substantial boots, the suit of golden armour and the hologram projector. No small boy, however.

  ‘Bit of a magpie, aren’t you?’ said the count, peering into the open neck of the pouch. ‘Anyone hiding in there? Speak now before the pouch is thrown onto the fire.’

  ‘I’m coming out,’ called the voice of William.

  ‘Good boy.’ The count shook the pouch once more. William fell onto the floor.

  ‘William,’ said the count, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘Hello, Grandad,’ said William.

  ‘Grandad?’ Maxwell groaned once more.

  ‘This bullygarve captured me,’ said William, picking himself up from the floor. ‘He forced me to bring him here. He made me get inside the pouch.’

  ‘You lying little shit!’

  ‘Silence, Carrion. William, go and find my guards. Tell them to come here at once. There’s a piece of rubbish that needs taking out.’

  ‘Right away, Grandad.’ William scurried from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Naughty little boy that,’ said Count Waldeck. ‘Completely untrustworthy.’

  ‘So it would appear.’ Maxwell sank into further dismal groanings.

  ‘Do you have anything to say before I pull the lever?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Maxwell. ‘Lots and lots and lots.’

  ‘I’ll bet you do. However—’ The count reached out a hand.

  ‘No,’ implored Maxwell. ‘Not just yet please. Not without telling me.’

  ‘Telling you what?’

  ‘Well, everything really. How you came to be here. What actually happened between you and Sir John. About Ewavett and Aodhamm.’

  ‘Nah. It’s not all that interesting. Better I just pull the lever.’

  ‘I’d be really really interested, honest.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure as it’s possible to be.’

  ‘All right.’ The count took himself over to Maxwell’s favourite armchair and sat down upon it. ‘As you know,’ said he, ‘at the time of the great transition the age of technology suddenly ceased and the new age of magic and myth began. This occurred with the collision of the four worlds. The reality fracture spread across the planet. It started in your back garden.’

  ‘My back garden?’

  ‘Well, it had to start somewhere. By happy chance it started in your back garden. You were a writer, you see.’

  ‘I wasn’t a writer. I wasn’t anybody. I didn’t write the Sir John Rimmer books, I used to get them out of the library.’

  ‘You did write them, Maxwell. You had a breakdown. You lost your memory.’

  ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘Because, Maxwell, I used to be your doctor.’

  ‘This is getting whackier by the moment,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘You had this persecution complex. Believed that the characters in your books were real. That they were out to get you. You believed that I was Count Waldeck.’

  ‘But you are.’

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t before the great transition. I was your doctor. When reality fractured the world became the very sort of place you used to write about. I metamorphosed into Count Waldeck, you into Max Carrion, Imagineer.’

  ‘Sounds rather far-fetched,’ said Maxwell.

  ‘I thought it sounded like a loose end being neatly tied up, myself.’

  ‘Okay. So how did I get projected into the future?’

  ‘That was my idea.’

  ‘How could it have been your idea? I shot you dead inside Sir John’s Hidden Tower. In this very room, in fact.’

  ‘Inside the Hidden Tower, yes. It was a Hidden Tower, it’s location known to no-one but Sir John and his cronies. In your books you never mentioned where it was. It could have been anywhere. So once you had been thrown out of it, you didn’t know where you were, did you?’

  ‘Still don’t,’ said Maxwell. ‘It was somewhere in the red world.’

  ‘The point was, that as soon as you were outside the tower, whatever influence you had over Sir John and myself ended. He was born of your imagination, I of your paranoia. We were both alive. And I was no longer dead once you were outside.’

  ‘This doesn’t explain how I got projected into the future.’

  ‘I told you. I did that. I couldn’t escape from the tower with you hanging around outside. I wasn’t certain what you’d be capable of doing. But I didn’t dare kill you either, in case I simply ceased to exist once you were dead. So I cast a spell to send you off to where you could do me no harm. Into the far future. I wasn’t expecting to live for as long as I have.’

  ‘And how come you have lived so long and not aged like Sir John?’

  ‘You really do want everything explained, don’t you?’

  ‘Not just me,’ said Maxwell. ‘But go on.’

  ‘Oh, all right. There was a bit of a punch-up in the Hidden Tower, I escaped shortly after having dispatched you into the future. I remained in the red world, perfecting my skills in magic. Sir John Rimmer left the red world, came here and founded the University.

  ‘I had an apprentice. MacGuffin. We worked together on a magical project the like of which had never been attempted before: the creation of two perfect beings.’

  ‘Aodhamm and Ewavett.’

  ‘Exactly. You fathomed out the meaning of the names of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Maxwell. ‘From a world without electricity. Remove Ohm from Aodhamm and Watt from Ewavett. You have Adam and Eve, of course.’

  ‘Of course. We succeeded in our quest. But I had underestimated MacGuffin. He was powerful in spells and hungry to possess Ewavett and Aodhamm for his own purposes. A magical battle ensued. I flung magic at him and he at me. I succeeded in putting a ring through his nose and confining him to his village. He cannot pass beyond the circle of columns. However, he lofted me on a chair and threw me across the world. I held hard to Ewavett, but lost all my magic passing through the grid.’

  ‘Who put the grid up? Sir John?’

  ‘No, the grid is a natural barrier between the worlds.’

  ‘So how did you beat Sir John? And why is he old and you still young?’

  ‘Sir John had turned his back on magic. He sought natural knowledge. He perfected Percussive Perlocution. It took me a long time to find him, but when I did I threw myself at his feet, told him I was a reformed character.’

  ‘And he trusted you.’

  ‘I’m afraid he did. I learned the art of P.P., tuned into the frequency of magic and knocked it into my own head. I caught Sir John unawares one night and . . . ZAP!’

  ‘So magic keeps you young?’

  ‘That’s it. And that’s about everything really. So it’s lever-pulling time, I think.’

  ‘Oh, not yet. Not yet.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to tell,’ said the count.

  ‘There’s a bit,’ said Maxwell. ‘like the matter of your digital watch and the hologram machine. How did you acquire such technology?’

  ‘No technology involved. Only magic. Within the watch two small demons count minutes at my command. The hologram machine contains a captured sylph. The receptionist is a projection of her personality, an astral double. Anything else I can help you with?’

  ‘Could you scratch my head for me, I can’t reach.’ The count gave Ma
xwell’s head a scratch. ‘Well?’ he said.

  ‘Hm, I think I’ve run out.’

  The count reached for the lever.

  ‘Oh, I’ve thought of one more. Where is Ewavett?’

  ‘I told you the truth there. She is stored in the basement. She’s in a very fragile condition now. She pines for Aodhamm. I intend to reunite them very soon.’

  ‘How?’ Maxwell asked, grateful for the opportunity to get one more question in.

  ‘I am going to blast MacGuffin out of existence. I cannot take my magic through the grid. But I have a surprise for him. On the roof above is an airship —steam-powered, fully piloted, ready to fly. You were lucky to catch me, Maxwell. I was just going off on my holidays.’

  ‘To the village of MacGuffin?’

  ‘Correct. I shall bomb MacGuffin from high above.’

  ‘Won’t Aodhamm come to harm?’

  ‘No, Maxwell, he won’t. Now I am utterly sick and tired of answering your questions. It is time to pull the lever.’

  ‘If you kill me, you will cease to exist.’

  ‘No, Maxwell, my existence is no longer tied to yours.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take the risk if I were you.’

  Count Waldeck’s hand was on the lever. ‘Maxwell,’ he said, ‘let me explain something to you. I control this world. But this is not enough. Soon I shall have control over the world of the red sun also. Then the next world and the next. Ultimately all will be mine. My playground, Maxwell. My garden of unearthly delights. A new Eden for Aodhamm and Ewavett to populate.’

  ‘With you as God?’

  ‘That’s about the shape of it.’

  ‘You are an evil bastard, Waldeck.’

  ‘I know. And unless you can think of one really good reason for me not to snuff you out, I’m afraid it’s goodbye to you.’

  ‘Er—’

  A big knock came at the door.

  ‘The cavalry,’ cried Maxwell. ‘I am saved.’

  ‘It’s not the cavalry, Maxwell. It’s my guards. Come.’

  The door swung open and a big shambling figure entered the room.

  The count didn’t bother to offer it a glance. ‘I have some rubbish for you to take out,’ he said, pressing down upon the lever.