Mocklore Box Set (Mocklore Chronicles)

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  In Harmony, the three Light Lords known as Lord Kloakor, Lord Dreamer and Lord Invisiblus stood around the wide window which displayed an image of Drak.

  “They keep getting confused,” said Lord Kloakor. “Do we have to do everything ourselves?”

  “Why don’t we let them go after that silly tyrant if that’s what they want to do,” said Lord Dreamer. “Surely that will give them more reality. Overthrowing the reign of darkness is their quest, after all.”

  “Their quest, not ours,” said Lord Kloakor. “We need them to take on our identities, not get caught up in this silly superhero behavior.”

  “What are they doing now?” said Lord Invisiblus. “I can’t see anything.”

  “That’s because you’re invisible,” Lord Kloakor said patiently. “Your retinas don’t have anything to reflect off.”

  “Oh, right.” Lord Invisiblus gradually faded into view. “That’s better.”

  They watched the Heroes of Justice head towards the palace of Drak.

  “Where’s Ladybird?” complained Lord Dreamer. “Her counterpart should be with them.”

  “She hasn’t had much luck making her counterpart do anything,” said Invisiblus.

  “I haven’t seen Ladybird’s counterpart lately,” said Lord Kloakor thoughtfully. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

  “I’ll tell you exactly what she has been up to,” thundered Lord Ladybird, bursting through the doorway, a blinding vision in pink and white stripes. She dragged Quillsmith behind her, almost pulling his arm out of the socket. “She has been trotting through Harmony as if she owned the place, with this traitor helping her every step of the way!”

  “Quillsmith,” said Lord Kloakor. “About time you stopped messing around in that prison and got back to work. We’ve got something you can help us with.”

  “Help us?” Ladybird screeched. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? He’s a traitor!”

  “Yes, dear,” said Kloakor. “We know he’s a traitor. It’s one of the reasons we put him in prison. But we need him now, so could we have a bit of shush from you?”

  “Shush?” she repeated piercingly.

  Quillsmith pulled his arm away from Ladybird. “Sorry, Kloakor. I won’t help you invade that little country. We’ve done enough to it already.”

  Lord Kloakor raised an eyebrow. “You’d prefer to see Drak turn it into a velvet-clad wasteland, would you? Wouldn’t have thought you were the cruel type.”

  Quillsmith hesitated. “She was talking about the native inhabitants like they were furniture that could be moved out at our convenience.”

  “And why not?” Ladybird demanded.

  “We should bring Drak here and face our responsibility,” said Quillsmith.

  “We should use that stupid little Mogglore place to fuel our magic and become more powerful than we have ever been,” spat Ladybird.

  Lord Kloakor looked from one to the other, amused. “Are you challenging Ladybird for the leadership, Quillers?”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” said Ladybird. She glared at Lord Dreamer and then at Lord Invisiblus (who promptly vanished so he wouldn’t have to see the scary expression in her bright white eyes) and finally at Lord Kloakor. “You wouldn’t let him!”

  “I wouldn’t have any choice,” said Kloakor. “You know the rules, Ladybird. If there’s a challenge to the leadership, the rest of us have to remain impartial.”

  “I know I am,” said Dreamer sweetly. She had always hated Ladybird.

  “I challenge the leadership,” Quillsmith said, getting the hint.

  “You little toad!” Ladybird screamed.

  “I have an idea,” said Kloakor as if it had just occurred to him. “Quillers, you might not know, but we’re planning to invade the outsider world. Dreamer and Invisiblus and I have managed to make contact with our counterparts in the outsider world, making them take on the identities of the Heroes of Justice. The next step is to take them over with our own personalities. What do you think?”

  “Should be feasible,” said Quillsmith.

  Ladybird turned on him, furious. “You hate the idea.”

  “No, no, it has possibilities,” Quillsmith said, infuriatingly calm.

  “It should be a fair test,” said Kloakor. “Whichever of you can fully make contact with your counterpart — and sustain it the longest, in the event of a tie — should be our leader.”

  “Sounds fair!” said the empty patch of space which was Invisiblus.

  “Very fair,” said Dreamer.

  Ladybird looked stunned. “But you know I haven’t been able to do it. That Kassa person is completely immune to my influence. She’s unnatural.”

  “Actually, you have the advantage,” Quillsmith pointed out. “You’ve practiced this. I haven’t. Still, I don’t mind.”

  “She’s not there anyway,” said Ladybird. “She was here, and she exploded into dust when I touched her, didn’t she?” She turned to Quillsmith to support her argument.

  “It did look as if she exploded into dust,” he agreed. “She could be anywhere.”

  “Here she is,” said Lord Dreamer, who had been fiddling with the Drak-viewing window. “She got safely home.”

  They all stared at the image of Kassa sitting in the kitchens of Drak, eating from a wide silver platter of elegant hors d’oeuvres and chatting to the head cook.

  “Well, that’s all right, then,” said Quillsmith. “Ladies first.”

  “What was that?” Egg said in alarm. He and Singespitter were still in the Hall of Wardrobe, surrounded by the maze of costume racks. They were both jumpy, and Singespitter had been forced to give Egg the important scroll to tuck into his belt after accidentally setting fire to it three more times out of sheer nervousness.

  As they reached the crossroads between the velvet trouser collection, the long leather coat collection, the naughty underwear collection and the collection of gilded costume accessories, a grey figure stepped out from behind a rack of leather coats. “What are you doing, warlock?” boomed the Cloak.

  “Gahh!” said Egg in shock. “I mean, um, I’m doing what I told you I was going to do.” Nervously, he racked his brain to remember what that was.

  “We do not believe you,” Dream Girl hissed in his ear, coming up behind him.

  “Where are your clockwork bats, warlock?” taunted Invisiblo, an unseen presence.

  “Consorting with a demonic beast,” said the Cloak, eyeing Singespitter with distaste. “Creeping around this accursed city, claiming to be our spy? We do not trust you, warlock. We think you are working for the dread tyrant. We think you are a supporter of the Reign of Darkness.”

  “A villain,” said Dream Girl. “We think you are a villain. There is only one way to deal with villains.”

  Egg thought fast. Short of hiding under Singespitter, he couldn’t see a way out of this. He groped a hand blindly into the nearest display of glittering belts, hats and ornate jewellery, hoping to find something that he could use as a weapon, or a shield. His hand brushed something hard and he gripped it. It felt too light to be of any use, thin and curved.

  It was a mask.

  “She’s been doing this for ages,” complained Lord Invisiblus. The Light Lords gathered around Ladybird as she struggled to impose her will on the impenetrable mind of Kassa Daggersharp.

  “It’s — not — working,” panted Ladybird, breathing hard. “I tell you, there’s something wrong with that woman. She is too strong-minded to allow anyone to take her over.”

  “More strong-minded than you?” said Lord Kloakor in pretended surprise. “How could that be, Ladybird? Are you not essentially the same person?”

  “And if you are not as strong-minded as your counterpart,” said Lord Dreamer, “Perhaps Lord Quillsmith is right to challenge your leadership.”

  Ladybird’s white eyes flared. “This is unworthy of you all.”

  “On the contrary, Ladybird,” said Kloakor. “It would seem the task is unworthy of you. Quillsmith, fancy a shot at it
?”

  “I’ll have a go,” said Quillsmith.

  Dreamer did something to the viewing window, and the image changed. Now they saw Egg and the Heroes of Justice, surrounded by racks of black velvet garments. Dream Girl held a struggling Egg, while the Cloak came under attack from a black winged monster. Invisiblo the Mystery Man became visible just long enough to see what was happening, and flung himself at the monster that was attacking the Cloak.

  Quillsmith glanced over his shoulder at the fuming Ladybird. “This should be easy,” he remarked.

  Egg stood up straight. His power crackled like an electric storm, forcing Dream Girl back from him. He turned to face her, placing Lord Sinistre’s gold party mask over his own features. “Do you not know me, Dream Girl?”

  He was taller than before, his shoulders broader. His voice sounded older. His robe was white, with gold embroidery displaying the complex alphabet of Harmony in bright sigils. His long gold cape fluttered, although there was no breeze here in the Hall of Wardrobe.

  “The Penman,” Dream Girl breathed.

  Invisiblo grabbed hold of Singespitter, and hurled the sheep-monster into a rack of slippery taffeta undergarments. Singespitter hit the floor with a nasty crash and thump which rendered him unconscious.

  Egg — the Penman — tilted his gold mask in Invisiblo’s direction. “Was that necessary?”

  “It’s a monster,” said Invisiblo. “Monsters are in league with villains and must be slain or rendered unconscious by heroes. Shall I slay it?”

  The Penman approved of Invisiblo’s zeal. “Leave it for now. We have more important things to do. Do we not, Cloak?”

  “Indeed, Penman,” said the Cloak. “We must bring about the downfall of the dread tyrant.”

  “We must bring light to Drak,” said Invisiblo, helping Dream Girl to her feet.

  Dream Girl ignored his attentions, gazing at the Penman. “We must End the Reign of Darkness,” she said.

  “Let us away!” declared the Penman, sweeping his golden cape around in a dramatic flourish. “Heroes of Justice, follow me!”

  Lord Sinistre was unhappy. There was no sign of the Chamberlain, which meant that Lord Sinistre had been forced to eat his supper — a sliver of smoked duck omelette followed by almond soup, then steamed lettuce salad and finally a compote of frozen rosebuds in raspberry custard adorned by a single grape carved into an amusing caricature of his own head — without hearing the three most interesting items of the day’s news, graded carefully so that he was told the most interesting bit last.

  Lord Sinistre had been feeling especially grumpy since Kassa had vanished into the vortex — and, more importantly, spurned his proposal of marriage. Such a shame. She had a great deal of potential to be a Dark Queen. He had tried to cheer himself up by watching the goings-on in Cluft (now a suburb of Drak) through his spyglass all afternoon. It was amusing, watching the staff and students of that prissy little town glide about like proper citizens of Drak. Lord Sinistre would have liked to gloat, but it didn’t feel right to do so until the Chamberlain officially told him about the conquest of Cluft. It wasn’t real news otherwise.

  After the novelty of Cluft-watching wore off, he had been left with nothing to do but change his clothes for supper, and by that stage was so depressed that he only spent fifteen minutes selecting which outfit was most suitable to match duck omelette and almond soup. His heart wasn’t in it.

  The door opened. Sinistre looked up, expecting to see a serving maid with his hibiscus and peppermint tea. Perhaps he could get her to tell him about the invasion of Cluft. She wouldn’t do it as well as the Chamberlain, but it would be better than nothing.

  It was not the serving maid. “Oh,” Lord Sinistre sighed. “It’s you lot. What do you want?”

  Kassa finally managed to tear herself away from the kitchens. The kitchen staff were startled when his Lordship’s new paramour appeared among them, but they relaxed as soon as she mentioned that she was a friend of the Chamberlain. The Head Cook had practically force-fed Kassa all the nicest things she could find, all the while chattering about what a lovely man the Chamberlain was, how good he was at his job, how well he handled Lord Sinistre when their employer was in his ‘funny moods’. They all seemed to adore him.

  It didn’t sound much like Aragon Silversword. Had he changed so much in three years?

  Kassa was now fed, watered, rested and ready for the next stage in her plan — saving Cluft from the dread influence of Drak. That was as detailed as the plan got. Kassa had never been much for details. She was an ideas woman, but usually left the practical bits up to her crew.

  Being a pirate queen wasn’t any fun without a crew.

  As Kassa emerged from the kitchens into the front hall of the palace, she saw Singespitter dragging himself down the final steps of the Great Staircase. His monstrous face was puffy and bruised. He limped heavily, the tendon above one of his cloven hoofs damaged. His wings were bedraggled, one of them torn and weeping blood. He looked exhausted.

  Kassa ran to him. “What happened to you?”

  He looked at her with his big eyes, and puffed a little green smoke from his nostrils.

  She hugged him hard, trying not to touch any of his wounded bits as she did so. “You’re not supposed to take lumps like this unless you’re protecting me.”

  He made a little growling sound which Kassa, her full attention focused on him for once, understood perfectly. “You were protecting Egg? What happened to him?”

  Singespitter rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out, communicating the concept that Egg was now, for no apparent reason, completely batshit insane.

  “We’ve lost him too,” moaned Kassa. “Damn. I was hoping to pick his brains. He looked like a details kind of boy.”

  Singespitter nodded sadly.

  “I need him back,” Kassa decided. “Aragon too, so he can explain how the hell he got to Drak in the first place. Singespitter, I need a crew.”

  “Baa?” Singespitter said hopefully.

  “Not that crew,” she said, thinking of the old days. “Daggar’s far too busy in his new career, Sparrow refused point blank to ever take any orders from me, Tippett is making a name for himself writing grim poetry, Vervain and the Dark One are running that dress shop in Zibria. They’ve all moved on with their lives. The last thing they need is me crashing in on them.”

  Singespitter said “Baa,” again, in a questioning tone.

  Kassa kissed him on the forehead. “Of course we’re keeping Aragon. He’s ours. The kids will come in handy, too. A new crew. We just have to figure out how to get rid of this Heroes of Justice nonsense.” A thought struck her. “I don’t suppose…no, it would never work.”

  Singespitter waited patiently.

  Kassa grinned at him. “I think I have a plan. It even has a detail or two. I don’t know if it’s going to achieve anything, but we might as well try.” She stood up, awkward in the tight red lace dress. “The first thing I need is a costume change. Turn the other way, I’m going to use an unnecessary amount of magic and I don’t want you to witness how far I’ve sunk.”

  Singespitter breathed a small amount of flame at her, affectionately. Things were always rosier when Kassa took charge.

  “It seems obvious who has won this little challenge,” said Lord Kloakor with satisfaction.

  The Light Lords watched the scene unfolding in the viewing-window. The Heroes of Justice, led by the Penman, had captured Lord Sinistre, tied him to a chair and dragged him into the ballroom, declaring that they were about to bring about the tyrant’s downfall, and End the Reign of Darkness he had inflicted on Drak for so long.

  The Heroes were unsure what to do next. Their mission had, to all intents and purposes, been successfully completed.

  “What do we do now?” asked Dream Girl.

  “I do not remember,” said the Cloak.

  They all looked at the Penman, who shrugged and tossed back his glittering gold cloak. “Perhaps we should let him go and then ca
pture him again?”

  In Harmony, Kloakor and Quillsmith exchanged satisfied glances. “Their characters have reached a limit,” Quillsmith explained. “They are questioning their own reality. This is the perfect time to attempt the next stage, imposing our personalities upon our counterparts.”

  “I don’t agree,” said Ladybird.

  “Are you still here, sweetie?” said Dreamer. “I thought you would have run off to hide your head in embarrassment by now.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Ladybird said between clenched teeth.

  The largest doors in the ballroom of Drak swung open, and a figure made her impressive entrance. It was Kassa Daggersharp, only…well, she looked different. Her hair was striped white and candy pink. She wore a tight leather bodice and wide sweeping skirts in the same colour combination, including bright pink boots. A pair of buzzing silver insect wings spread out from the centre of her back. She strode across the ballroom floor, regarding the Heroes of Justice with an icy stare. “Don’t tell me you started without me, darlings.”

  The Light Lords stared at Ladybird.

  “Did you do that?” Quillsmith said finally.

  Ladybird lifted her chin haughtily. “What do you think, pen-boy?”

  “Queenbeetle,” gasped the Penman, bowing low. The other Heroes of Justice all followed suit. “Finally, we are all united.”

  “That’s right, my friends,” said the radically altered Kassa Daggersharp. “With my leadership, we will bring about the downfall of the dread tyrant and bring an end to the Reign of Darkness.”

  “We’ve done that,” Dream Girl said. “We don’t know what to do next.”

  “Simple,” said Queenbeetle. “We must take the tyrant out of this evil city, beyond the black borders and into the light. His powers will be destroyed and the Reign of Darkness will be Ended.”

  “A masterful plan, Queenbeetle!” agreed the Penman.

  The others nodded. It made perfect sense. Dream Girl and Invisiblo lifted up Lord Sinistre, still tied to his chair, and they all marched out of the ballroom together.

  “Interesting,” said Kloakor. “Why did you do that, Ladybird?”