The Parodies Collection

by Adam Roberts

  ‘This message has nothing to do with bats,’ snapped Isabella.

  ‘The message is bats,’ was Marrer’s opinion.

  ‘Racoons have fingers, don’t they?’ said Greendragon.

  ‘They’re just another kind of squirrel,’ said Helltrik, dismissively.

  ‘Oh,’ said Greendragon. ‘Really? I wouldn’t say so. I thought they were a separate species from squirrels. Or do I mean race? A separate race from squirrels. No. Species. I mean species, do I?’

  ‘Shut up!’ screeched Isabella, her ancient vocal chords audibly creaking with the effort. ‘Stop this idle chatter! We have been blessed with a communication from beyond the tomb! And all you can do is bicker like hatchlings!’

  ‘Fingers!’ said Asheila. ‘Why would a poltergeist specify fingers?’

  ‘Human beings,’ said Lizbreath, in a clear and resonant voice. Heads turned in her direction. ‘The hömös apes. They had fingers.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘That’s what the message means,’ said Lizbreath, shrugging. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’ said Isabella, crossly. ‘Why would my daughter struggle back from the afterlife to communicate information about an extinct race of disgusting apes?’

  ‘I recognize the allusion, that’s all,’ said Lizbreath. ‘I’m kind of surprised nobody else in this room does. Though I’d guess one or two of you do.’

  ‘I don’t need a mentally unbalanced Salamander from Starkhelm telling me I don’t recognize allusions. There are no allusions in that gibberish,’ said Asheila.

  ‘Yes there are.’

  ‘In the squirrel-claw hunger? Don’t be ridiculous. Or, since you are inherently ridiculous, you scrawny insane Salamander, don’t be more ridiculous than you already are.’

  ‘Well that’s not very polite,’ said Lizbreath.

  ‘Hey!’ said Käal, weakly.

  ‘Let’s stop this,’ said Marrer, going onto his hindlimbs and standing up tall. ‘Come along! This is all nonsense, and we all know it. We have been gathered in this chamber under false pretences. We allowed our hope to fool us. We all miss Hellfire so much that the faint chance that Mon. Brimstön here could be bringing her back, alive, from Hostileia was enough to get us all to gather in this place. But we have to accept that she is not here.’

  ‘Maybe she is here.’

  ‘Oh, Mother,’ snapped Marrer, crossly. ‘Stop with all the spectral nonsense! Hellfire is not present. There’s no such thing as ghosts!’

  ‘I didn’t say anything!’ retorted Isabella, haughtily.

  ‘What? Who said that, then?’

  ‘I did,’ said Lizbreath.

  ‘So you believe all this ghostly idiocy, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything about ghosts. But I have a question for Isabella, though.’ She put her foreclaw in front of her nose, and blew a quick blast of red flame upon it. Then, using the soot on her talon, she reached up and drew a simple shape over the door. ‘Has your daughter ever drawn this for you?’

  The shape looked like this:

  Isabella puffed a series of little blue smoke baubles from her nostrils. ‘I don’t see how you know that, young Salamander – unless you’ve been going through my private papers.’

  ‘I assure you I haven’t done anything like that,’ said Lizbreath, cleaning her talon against her scaly side.

  ‘What is it?’ demanded Asheila. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘I recognize that,’ said Greendragon. ‘I have lots of those in my hoard. Little tiny ones. The old hömös made millions of them out of gold.’

  ‘That’s right!’ said Käal. ‘It’s an old ape letter. It’s equivalent to our “t”. For some reason, the apes used to like to wear that letter around their neck on little golden chains.’

  ‘I read in a Saga once,’ said Asheila. ‘It was a Gossip Saga, and they had one of those “Interesting Facts” sections. It said it was because so many of the apes liked imbibing a drink called, oddly enough, “t”. Whenever you saw an ape wearing one of those things, they were announcing that they really liked drinking “t”.’

  Isabella was rummaging in her reticule. ‘Here.’ She brought out a second piece of paper, and held it up for everybody to see. ‘This came – from the other side.’

  It was a little hard to take in what the paper represented: there was quite a lot of complicated writing on it. The central + was obvious, but there was writing in each of the four quarters that this shape created. The dragons in the room all leaned in to take a closer look.

  Then, without warning, Marrer sneezed. A lance of fire connected his mouth and the upheld scroll. A moment later Isabella was holding aloft nothing more than a charred corner of scroll, and fat black ashes floated down, like snowflakes wearing mourning.

  ‘Oh!’ said Marrer. ‘Sorry!’

  ‘Marrer!’ snapped his mother. ‘You destroyed it!’

  ‘I do apologize.’

  ‘Is it too much to ask you to put your hand in front of your snout when you sneeze?’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Marrer. ‘That’s gone. And I suggest we all disperse. There’s nothing more to see here, after all. No Hellfire, no solution to this mystery, and certainly no strange glyphs passed over from beyond the grave.’

  There didn’t seem anything else to do. People slowly filed out of the chamber, chatting amongst themselves. Isabella said in a cross voice: ‘That was my only copy!’ and Marrer, laying a hand on the back of her neck, said: ‘Come along, Mother, let me take you back to your room. You need a little lie down, I think.’

  Soon, only Käal, Lizbreath and Helltrik were left. The old dragon, sighing heavily, seated his venerable rump upon the room’s single sofa, fitting his tail neatly through the slot.

  ‘Wait,’ said Käal, his brow still creased. ‘Did Marrer just burn that scroll – on purpose?’

  ‘He sneezed,’ said Helltrik. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘But that scroll – it had the t, and all sorts of writing. And now we’ll never know what it said!’

  ‘It was certainly gibberish. Forget it.’ Helltrik rubbed his eyes with his forelimbs. ‘Leave it alone, Käal.’

  ‘But what if it was the solution to this whole mystery?’

  ‘Come now! You’re clutching at straws, Käal, you really are.’

  Käal gulped, for he recognized the truth of this. He was clutching at straws. The whole fragile edifice of the last few weeks teetered in his mind, teeter-tottered, and started tumbling down. Sadness swelled in his heart. It had all come to nothing! He had blithely accepted the commission, had come to Doorbraak with a fool’s baseless confidence, believing he could solve the mystery. But of course he could not. He lacked the capacity. ‘You’re right, Helltrik,’ he said, in a small voice.

  ‘I don’t know what strange nonsense Isabella had written on that scroll,’ said Helltrik. ‘But how could it possibly contain the answer to this mystery?’

  ‘It’s hard to see how it could,’ Käal agreed,

  ‘At any rate, it’s gone beyond restoration now. And to think I actually got my hopes up! Came trotting along here, thinking I’d see my grandniece again!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Käal, ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed,’ said Helltrik, mildly enough. ‘I had hoped you could find out what happened to my grandniece. But I’ve lived with not knowing for three centuries. I daresay I can live with not knowing for a few years more.’

  Exhausted from his pointless trip to Hostileia, battered down by circumstances, and supplied by his nature with a considerable reservoir of self-pity at the best of times, this was too much for Käal. He began to cry. ‘I’m sorry!’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry!’

  Helltrik looked embarrassed. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said.

  ‘I just thought I could solve this mystery!’ Käal wailed. ‘I really thought I could.’

  ‘There there,’ said Helltrik, awkwardly. ‘I suppose some mysteries are beyond solution. Som
e puzzles are never to be unpuzzled. We must accept that, and get on with our dragon lives.’

  Käal’s tears were making the stone floor smoke. He wiped his eyes with the back of his talons, and sucked in a deep, slightly shuddery breath. ‘I have failed you, sir.’

  ‘No positive harm done,’ said Helltrik. ‘After all, I only promised to pay you if you solved the mystery!’

  Käal began to sob again.

  ‘You had a fair run at the challenge,’ said Helltrik. ‘So we’ll never know what happened to poor Hellfire, all those years ago! So what!’

  ‘I know what happened,’ said Lizbreath.

  Helltrik paused, looked at her, and decided to ignore her. ‘We’ll never know what’s behind the annual delivery of severed dragon tongues…’

  ‘I know,’ said Lizbreath again.

  ‘Please, my dear,’ said Helltrik. ‘Don’t interrupt. I’m trying to have a conversation with Käal, here.’

  ‘This mystery you’re both on about – I know the solution,’ said Lizbreath, climbing down from the door-frame to stand on her hindlimbs on the floor. ‘And what’s more, so do you.’

  Helltrik and Käal both looked at her, in silence, for a long time. ‘I can see why you have your reputation for mental instability,’ said Helltrik, evenly. ‘If I know the solution to this mystery, then why would I have retained the services of Mon. Brimstön?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lizbreath, ‘you don’t know what happened to your grandniece – that’s true. You don’t know that. I guess you hoped that, maybe, Käal could find out something new about her. But I’m not talking about that.’

  ‘Then what,’ said Helltrik, severely, ‘are you talking about?’

  ‘All the other stuff,’ she said.

  20

  ‘There’s a secret at the heart of this family,’ said Lizbreath, moving about the chamber with impressive nonchalance. Indeed, her lack of chalance was so extreme it looked, to Käal, to be rather studied. Certainly the rhythm of her skinny flanks and the sine-wave action of her tail drew the eyes of both the men in the room.

  ‘I know all about the Vagner secret,’ said Käal. ‘Helltrik told me all about that, almost as soon as I arrived.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ said Lizbreath.

  ‘Well that just shows what you know, Mis. Salamander,’ said Helltrik, with considerable asperity. ‘Mon. Brimstön and I did indeed talk about the Vagner nest’s shameful secret. Didn’t we?’

  ‘We did, Lizbreath. Really.’

  ‘And what did he say it was?’

  ‘Certain members of the family have espoused… democracy,’ said Käal, glancing nervously at Helltrik. ‘You can see why they might want to keep that secret.’

  Lizbreath thought about this, nodded, and then said: ‘Nope. That’s not it.’

  ‘That’s not it?’ gasped Helltrik.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Democracy. No. There is a secret at the heart of this family, but that’s not it.’

  ‘And what is it, then, pray?’ snapped Helltrik. ‘What is this secret that is so much more terrible that the politics of democracy? Fingers, I suppose?’ He snapped his claws together dismissively.

  ‘Well – yes. Fingers, yes,’ said Lizbreath, with a knowing glance at each of the two men in turn.

  ‘I think we have indulged you long enough, Mis. Salamander,’ said Helltrik, drawing himself up, and slipping his forearm into his belt-slung satchel. He kept it in there, and looked at Käal. ‘I rather regret permitting this she-Salamander onto our island, to be frank. You know she lies on a hoard of silver?’

  ‘You heard about that?’ said Käal.

  ‘It’s well known. She’s insane, I’m afraid. Dragon rectitude and honour, and her own descent from good family, has meant that her insanity is treated with great leniency. But, although I am, I hope, as sympathetic as the next individual, there comes a point where we are not helping the afflicted individual.’

  ‘Maybe she has her reasons for lying on a hoard of silver,’ said Käal, feeling awkward to be talking about Lizbreath in the third person when she was right there.

  ‘Beyond mere insanity? I believe it to be a counter-cultural affectation, Käal. But I think it means we can disregard any crazy theories she spins out of her brain.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lizbreath. ‘I lie on an unconventional hoard. But I’ll say this: my hoard is a lot more use to me than a pile of old gold jewels stolen from the extinct race of hömös.’

  ‘Is that some barb aimed at me, Mis. Salamander?’ frowned Helltrik. ‘Only some of my hoard is ancient Vagner treasure, from the time humans walked the earth.’

  ‘Like the Siegfried treasure? The one you promised Käal, here?’

  ‘If he could solve the mystery of my grandniece’s disappearance! He has not done so.’

  ‘The treasure you inherited from your illustrious ancestor?’

  ‘From Regin the Great, yes. Regal Regin. Father of our house, and of all true dragons as well, yes.’ Helltrik looked increasingly uncomfortable.

  ‘But missing a piece, I heard?’

  ‘Just a small thing,’ said Helltrik, grumpily. ‘Hardly even a thing. A nothing, really.’

  ‘A ring?’

  ‘Lucky guess,’ Helltrik snarled.

  ‘There’re not many dragons who would be so blithe about missing even the tiniest portion of his hoard – wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘The Siegfried treasure is a mighty haul!’ boomed Helltrik. ‘One tiny ring is neither here nor there! My ancestor, Regin the Great, won it in honourable contest with Siegfried Dragonheart!’

  ‘Ah, yes, Siegfried Dragonheart. Slain by Regin,’ said Lizbreath. ‘Siegfried Dragonheart. Do you wonder why we call him that?’

  ‘I don’t see why we have to talk of these old mythic stories,’ said Helltrik, clacking his talons together impatiently. He really did look extremely uncomfortable. ‘I’d rather we discuss the present day. In fact, let us discuss the immediate future. I would like you to leave my property, Käal, and I would like you to take your… associate with you.’

  ‘Monster Vagner…’ Käal said.

  ‘Siegfried Dragonheart,’ interrupted Lizbreath. ‘Wasn’t he called that because, of all humans, he was the one who was closest to approximating a dragon – in courage, strength, violence and so on?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Lizbreath went to the window. ‘I’ve heard otherwise.’ There seemed to be some mark or blot upon the crystal, for she brought out a rolled-up wad of something from her satchel and rubbed at it. The crystal squeaked and complained under the action.

  ‘Mon. Vagner,’ said Käal, in a mollifying tone of voice. ‘I understand your disappointment. And I apologize for the – eccentric behaviour of my associate. You want us to leave Doorbraak, and of course we shall.’

  But Helltrik wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, he was peering past him at Lizbreath.

  ‘Young Salamander,’ he said, with choleric emphasis. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘There,’ said Lizbreath, stepping away from the window and depositing whatever she had just been using back in her satchel. ‘There you go.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I drew something on the window.’

  ‘On the crystal?’ Both men came closer. And indeed a design had been carved upon it – actually cut into the fireproof crystal. ‘Hey, that’s neat!’ Käal said, wonderingly.

  ‘What is it of?’ demanded Helltrik.

  ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, it is what Old Isabella had written on her scroll,’ said Lizbreath. ‘And it’s the real secret of Doorbraak. Or are you going to keep pretending that I’m insane, Mon. Vagner?’

  ‘No,’ said Vagner, in a pinched and weary voice. ‘No, Lizbreath. I can no longer pretend that.’

  This is what Lizbreath had carved into the crystal:

  ‘How did you do that?’ Käal asked. ‘That’s solid crystal! Did you gouge it with your fingers? Wow! Just – wow. And,’ he added, looking agai
n, ‘what does it… mean? The diagram? What’s… uh…’

  ‘It is a great shame’ said Helltrik, in a tight voice.

  ‘I thought it was just written on the top!’ said Käal, still doing his wow!-voice. ‘But it’s actually scratched into the crystal! And crystal is really tough! Fireproof, and very hard to break…’

  Without warning, Vagner leapt up, threw his wings wide, knocked his head against the ceiling and swung his body round. Kicking out with his hind legs, he smashed through the window with a cacophonous smash. Shards of crystal flew out and glittered through the air. The firewood frame splintered and broke into two separated pieces, thudding out of its space in the wall and falling away.

  Vagner’s legs continued through the trajectory of their kick. Then he lowered them again, drew in his wings and settled back on the floor.

  ‘… and very easily broken,’ Käal finished, ‘with one forceful backleg kick from a mature male dragon. Hey! Why did you do that?’

  ‘Same reason Marrer burned the scroll,’ said Lizbreath. ‘Because nobody must be allowed to see it.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Helltrik. ‘It is much too harmful.’

  ‘But I’ve seen it!’ said Käal. ‘It didn’t do me any harm!’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Helltrik. He brought his right forearm out of his satchel. In his claws was a bulky letter L, which he was holding by the shorter of its two limbs. ‘I’m afraid that seeing it will do you a great deal of harm. I’m afraid that seeing it will… kill you.’

  Käal saw Lizbreath, standing as she was beside him, stiffen. She drew in a long breath.

  ‘I really don’t understand what’s going on,’ Käal announced to the room.

  ‘We can take that as read,’ snarled Helltrik. ‘It’s been obvious for quite a while that you don’t understand anything very much.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Käal, be quiet now,’ said Lizbreath, with calm authority. ‘Do you see that device Mon. Vagner is holding in his hand? Believe me when I say it is capable of killing us both in two seconds. It emits a kind of fire from its end, in a concentrated straight line, and that line will go directly through your scales and cut your heart in two inside your chest.’