Boy Who Stole Time

by Mark Bowsher

‘Yer don’t know me.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. I don’t…’ Krish just couldn’t find the words.

  The young wizard eyed him curiously. For a few seconds she spoke slowly, even bothering to pronounce everything (well, almost everything) correctly. ‘Where are you from? You’re not from round ’ere. And however weird your story is, I bet I’ve ’eard weirder. And what’s all this stuff about going to the Night Ocean?’

  Krish waited for a few more moments, in his mind begging Balthrir to keep talking, before he took a deep breath and told her everything. About his mother, the devil, his journey to Ilir, meeting the King and the fact he simply had to touch the Myrthali to return home.

  Balthrir inflated her cheeks and then exhaled slowly.

  ‘Nah,’ she said. ‘’Eard weirder. I ’eard of a man who once divorced his ’at.’

  ‘You mean he was married to his hat?’

  ‘Course ’e was! What kind of man buys an ’at and doesn’t marry it first? It’s not decent!’

  Things were clearly different in Ilir, thought Krish.

  Balthrir prodded the fire with her staff, causing sparks to fly off the blackened logs. ‘Far as I’m concerned, I ’ad a good racket goin’ and as soon as I got in cahoots with you m’luck runs out and I’m on the run.’

  ‘But…’ said Krish. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong!’

  ‘Not sayin’ yer did, mate! Just sayin’, was all going well till you rocked up! Yer some kinda bad luck charm, eh?’ She chuckled briefly, almost bitterly, Krish thought, as she jabbed at a blackened log until it split in two. More sparks went flying. ‘Now.’ Her toned lightened. She proceeded to chat to herself as she poked the fire. ‘Falkesh is swamped with wizards and they only trust grey-bearded wotsits in Calcara. Vra’hool, too close to Al Kara. The authorities are probably sniffin’ around there. Might get recognised. So yer’ve effectively knackered m’short-lived professional career, matey boy.’

  Krish looked at the ground. The heat of the fire was burning his forehead and right now he felt so guilty that he wanted the darkness to swallow him up.

  ‘Bloody ’ell, mate!’ shouted Balthrir quite suddenly. ‘Stand up for yerself!’

  Krish fixed her with a stare. ‘Wasn’t my fault your bloody stupid, your—’ he used a word that made Balthrir raise her eyebrows ‘—stupid scams backfired! You were ripping people off!’

  ‘Better!’ said Balthrir. ‘Knew there was some fire in there somewhere, mate! Now, yer hear stories of time thieves and gateways opening up and all that cobblers, but can’t say I’ve ever seen any real sign of all that stuff. One way to check it’s not a load of hornack’s tallywackers, of course.’ Balthrir removed one of her worn old scandals. ‘Toenails are best, they say.’ Using a knife Balthrir cut off the end of a toenail, waved her staff around it and the nail was suspended in mid-air in purple glittering light. She breathed a few curious words and it flew over Krish’s head and into the night, leaving a trail of purple shards falling to the ground. Balthrir nodded with satisfaction.

  ‘South-west. Perfect. That’s where I’m from,’ said Balthrir.

  ‘You… sent one of your toenails home…?’

  ‘Don’t be daft! That’s where I was born! Where m’parents live! Or used to live.’

  ‘And why would you send a toenail clipping to your old house?’

  ‘To prove a point! That spell sends any part of yer body back to where you were born. Now stop asking stupid questions and make with the toenail!’ She was brandishing the knife in his direction. Krish did as he was told and Balthrir conjured up some more of the purple glitter around the toenail clipping. Rather quickly it turned from purple to green, then buzzed from side to side, apparently confused about which way to go. The clipping flew around in increasingly violent circles for a few more seconds and then burst into red sparks that turned to blackness as they fell.

  Krish looked over at Balthrir expectantly.

  ‘Well…?’ he said.

  Balthrir pondered for a few more moments before answering. ‘Either I got the spell a bit wrong or… it couldn’t find where you were from because…’ Balthrir looked deep into Krish’s eyes before continuing. ‘Well… time thief from another world, eh? Very interesting. Very interesting indeed. So, what’s yer world called?’

  ‘Earth.’

  ‘Earth?! Yer mean this stuff?’ She pointed to the ground, one side of her upper lip arched upwards in mild disgust. Krish nodded. ‘Blimey. Bet yer glad it wasn’t raining on the day they named your gaff or it would ’ave been called “Mud”! So what’s the kingdom yer from called?’

  ‘England. I mean Britain. Or the United Kingdom.’

  ‘The United Kingdom?! Bloody ’ell, they’re not all that imaginative with names round your neck of the woods, are they?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Krish let out a tired chuckle. ‘I guess not. They just call it the UK on the news.’

  ‘“Uk”?!’ Balthrir spat out the word out like ‘yuck’ missing its beloved ‘y’. ‘Your kingdom’s called “uk”? That’s a bit rubbish, innit?’

  ‘I… No one calls it that. Actually, I don’t think anyone’s noticed, to be honest.’

  ‘Not noticed?! It’s called “uk”! ’Ow can no one ’ave noticed? ’Ow about moons? ’Ow many o’ them yer got? We got five: Mother and Sons. Mother, or Jashir if yer fancy, and ’er four sons ’oo whiz around ’er. There’s Jarhi, Sia, Hri and Reb.’

  ‘We just have one.’

  ‘Oh. Borin’. What’s she called?’

  ‘The Moon.’

  ‘The Moon?! That’s it?! The best yer could come up with! Blimey, your lot sound thicker than a fumbala that needs to go on a diet!’

  Krish was surprised at how easily he had laughed after this, despite how tired he was (plus he wasn’t sure what a fumbala was, although he could guess). He and Balthrir exchanged warm smiles before she returned to the matter of dinner. Balthrir uttered a spell and the black skin rose out of the fire. As the skin came towards her it wobbled slightly in mid-air. Abruptly it plummeted and Balthrir just about caught it. She threw it from one hand to another very quickly, making sucking noises until she managed to drop the steaming-hot bundle into her lap.

  ‘See,’ said Balthrir, ‘mask spells, very complicated. Like ’em. Something yer can really get yer teeth into. Simpler spells are too easy. I lose concentration.’

  She unwrapped the package and cut the fruit within in half. Krish glimpsed juicy red flesh before steam poured out, engulfing them both in a smell that was like mulled wine and roast beef all rolled into one.

  ‘Halfire,’ said Balthrir. ‘Delicious stuff.’

  Balthrir continued to consider Krish’s tale as the fruit cooled, and soon after – picking a moment when both their mouths were full of juicy, rich, almost meaty and surprisingly filling fruit – she spoke.

  ‘Well, guess yer’ll be needing some help then.’

  CHAPTER 13

  THE MOUNTAIN ATOP A TREE

  ‘Lad,’ Balthrir laid out her brief explanation in response to Krish’s ‘Why?’ ‘I got three choices in life. Carry on being a rubbish wizard for rubbish money and keep runnin’ scams where the law always catches up with you. And if they appre’end me without a wizarding licence, without even ’aving passed m’wizardry exams, I’ll be pretty screwed. Or cross The Scar to get work over there. Or impress the King enough to work for him. Right now, can’t see me ever crossing The Scar, but… if I help you… I’ll either have to cross The Scar or accompany you back to the palace with yer pearl from the Night Ocean and yer flamin’ feather from a FireHawk, bit o’ string round the world and that. Cause you ain’t doin’ all that without a bit o’ magic, are yer?’

  ‘I guess not.’ Krish hadn’t really thought about it. What he had thought about was Balthrir’s parents. ‘Your Mum and Dad… you said they’re in prison…?’

  Balthrir’s tone darkened, her brow weighted with grief. She spoke cautiously, even taking time to pronounce her aitches, and at sinisterly low volume. �
��Yeah. In the Black Palace. You won’t have seen them. They’re at the top of the Five-Point Tower. They didn’t do anything serious. Late on a couple of tax bills. Not exactly a rich family, mine.’

  ‘And you’d work for the King? Even though he has your parents impris—’

  Balthrir shot him a fierce look across the flames.

  ‘Kid, I do not want to talk about it!’

  Krish stared at his feet.

  Balthrir’s gaze was lost somewhere between the fire and the blackness of the night beyond. After a few minutes she pulled out her best smile and her voice was cheery once more.

  ‘So come on then: in’t yer got more stupid questions to ask?’

  Krish supposed he did. ‘So, The Scar…? That’s a river…?’

  ‘Ocean. Runs round from Meslahir to Meslahir. Perfect circle cuttin’ through the east of the globe. Can’t get around the world without crossin’ it.’

  Then Krish thought of another stupid question.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘Can’t believe I didn’t think of it! You know that… “mask spell” you did in front of Nboosa?’

  Balthrir smiled. ‘Forget it, mate! I know where yer goin’ with that one. Did yer see an old wizard with red and blue ’air and a staff with a crystal in it?’

  ‘Yeah…’ Krish racked his brains. ‘Er… Eshter?’

  ‘Yep. Madam Eshter. Best wizard in the kingdom. From Baala, one of the Undertowns. Undertons are a learned lot. All that livin’ underground for centuries. Not much more to do down there than read books. Lot of wizards are Undertons. You imagine me tryin’ to be the court wizard when they got an Underton ’andy? Seriously, yer take a step into that place with a splinter from a magic wand ’er staff’ll glow so bright yer’ll be seeing spots for years as yer prop up one of the palace walls! Yer not sneakin’ in there and stealin’ the Myrthali. Trust me.’

  Krish remembered how Eshter had reacted to the performer who had magically dyed part of her costume blue.

  ‘Anyhoob,’ continued Balthrir. ‘Let’s sleep for a couple o’ days and then we’ll get on the road to Old Margary.’

  ‘So, Old Margary’s…?’ asked Krish.

  ‘Old Margary?’ said Balthrir. ‘Oh, she’s the witch in the tree on top of the mountain atop a much bloody bigger tree, of course.’

  Of course, thought Krish. He was too tired to absorb any more information tonight. Devils and kings and wizards and witches in trees on mountains in trees and days and nights as long as a handful of lunch breaks. His eyelids were creeping together and he found himself lying back. As he drifted off he saw Balthrir arranging some thick bandages around him, but he was more interested in the yellow light peeking over the curved horizon.

  ‘Balthrir… it’s almost daylight… Is it really the best time for…’ The word ‘bed’ was lost in a yawn. The bandages were now slipping gently underneath him and wrapping themselves into a cocoon, giving him a little space over his head to breathe.

  ‘Baaalfeeearr,’ Krish mumbled while the bandages blocked out the sky as sunlight inched across it. ‘Waaa if va kin don keee hii… pomise…’

  ‘Do what, mate?’

  Krish finished yawning before speaking this time. ‘What if the King doesn’t keep his promise?’

  ‘Did you hear the song of a bird in the deep…?’ came the soft voice of Balthrir in the dawn air.

  Krish muttered something along the lines of a yes.

  ‘Then the King’ll keep ’is promise…’

  ⁂

  Krish awoke twice during his sleep. Once as more bandages wrapped themselves around his body as the chill of night spread through the air while also opening up over his face to reveal bright stars in the sky above him. The moon and its offspring, the four miniature moons which danced around their parent, arched across the twinkling firmament. Then once more as this was reversed, the bandages retreating with the heat and the dome reappearing to block out the sunlight.

  Krish woke again at dawn to find the bandages slithering off him and into one of the satchels hung over the mule. There was no chance of a lie-in here; the ground was rather bobbly with the bandages gone, so he made himself sit up. Balthrir was placing a small wooden tray holding a teapot and two glasses filled with green leaves on the back of the mule.

  ‘Up yer get,’ she said. ‘Mint tea on the move. Come on. Or we’ll never get to Ugethrid before dusk.’

  *

  Ugethrid, Krish soon discovered, was the mountain Balthrir had mentioned earlier. The mountain on top of a mighty tree named Oobna. He couldn’t quite picture it. Old Margary lived in a treehouse (in another tree, of course) on top of the mountain. The mint tea, although steaming hot, was cooling and refreshing in taste; much better than the stuff he had drank at the Broken Scythe. The tea did an admirable job of combatting the intense heat of the desert. For the whole journey, which took several hours, the enchanted tray managed to stay perfectly balanced on top of the mule. Well, almost perfectly. The tray’s infrequent wobbles were enough to make the mule glance at it untrustingly over his shoulder.

  The deeper they journeyed into the desert the darker the colour of the sand became. It started off a dull yellow, and reached barely higher than his ankle, broken up by islands of baked earth that looked solid as rock from a distance but crumbled underfoot. Later on there were mighty dunes of deep orange sand, which were at times as tall as multi-storey car parks. But most of the time all they passed through were long, flat stretches of dusty scrubland dotted with rocks and dried weeds that were scarcely managing to stay alive. Krish was fascinated by how well Balthrir knew the route. He was so lost without the map on his phone to tell him where he was and where he should go.

  ‘So this is really your only option?’ asked Krish as they trudged through the wastelands. ‘If you really can’t go back to school and do your wizardry exams.’

  ‘Well…’ Balthrir looked about, not that there was anyone in the surrounding wildness who could overhear them. ‘I did kinda ’ave a back-up plan. Just in case I cocked up m’big exam or I wasn’t allowed to sit it or summink.’ She looked around again. ‘I invent things.’

  ‘Invent things?’

  ‘Yeah, yer know… master a few spells to bewitch some tools and Budap’s yer uncle…’ She rummaged in the backpack she’d made Krish carry, one of the ones that didn’t fit on the mule, and pulled out a rough faded green sphere covered in interchangeable tiles, each with a number on. Out the top stuck a bent metal aerial. ‘How about that, eh?’

  Krish wasn’t keen to dampen Balthrir’s winning smile.

  ‘It’s… wow… er… what is it?’ he said.

  ‘It’s a clock-confuser!’

  ‘Oh… What’s that for?’

  ‘Confusin’ clocks – what d’yer think?’

  ‘Oh. Right. Is there a lot of call for them round here?’

  ‘I dunno. People buy all sorts of junk. Got a distress stone in there somewhere.’ She pulled out a small pointed red rock.

  ‘And that… gets distressed…?’

  ‘Noooo! Sends up a flare, dunnit?’

  ‘Right. That does sound quite handy actually.’

  ‘Yeah. Booorin’ though.’ She tossed the distress stone back into the backpack. ‘Got some amazin’ itchin’ powder but there’s no market for the stuff!’

  Krish mentally jettisoned his follow-up question on why Balthrir hadn’t become an inventor.

  Progress was slow. Although the light of the moons, Mother and Sons, was enough to light their way through the cool night, Balthrir stated that there were hidden ravines or the edge of a canyon nearby shrouded by the dark, so they would have to stop and wait for daybreak. For an hour or so in the middle of the day the heat was too intense to walk. They sheltered when they could, the sun burning Krish’s skin, the air boiling around them, even in the shade of the Calvir trees of the oases. Krish often begged Balthrir for water to soothe his parched throat and his companion, far more used to desert life than him, would only allow him a meagre swig.


  As the sun melted into the shimmering ground behind them they took in the striking image in front of them. Illuminated in the deep orange light of dusk was a mighty tree, bigger and broader than any Krish had ever seen. The monstrously large tree appeared too big for the pocket world on which he stood. Its trunk was thick and bulged like a barrel of gunpowder frozen in mid-explosion. Its stocky branches twisted and turned in all directions and there was a scattering of leaves of yellow and orange, which were as big as houses. A canopy of cloud hung just below some of the higher branches. Seeing Oobna in the haze of the fading daylight made it all the more unreal.

  Then Krish caught his first sight of Ugethrid. On top of a clump of earth embedded in a collection of branches was a small but impressive mountain. The snow-dusted peak rose higher than the loftiest of Oobna’s branches, its backdrop the deep blue of the dying day fading swiftly into the dark of the star-dotted night sky. Somewhere below the summit, Balthrir reassured him, there was a lone tree in which Old Margary lived.

  Balthrir unburdened the mule and allowed him to roam free.

  ‘There’s plenty o’ grass to munch on ’ere and a stream round the corner that ’e knows ’is way to. ’E’ll still be ’ere when we get back.’

  The two of them turned their attention to the intimidating form of the mountain atop a humongous tree.

  ‘You sure about this, kid?’ said Balthrir. ‘I mean… from here on… it gets kinda serious. And I don’t mean the climb. I mean Old Margary. Old bat’s fiercely loyal to the King but even more devoted to helping old friends. She’s His Maj’s secret weapon really. Makes all kinds of stuff for the palace but the King tells everyone she’s some terrifyin’ monster livin’ up a tree so most stay away. Used to go up there quite a bit as a kid. Gotta be a pretty poor family to brave a visit to Old Margary but… guess those were desperate times.’ There was something she didn’t want to say. ‘My family were the only ones who give ’er the time o’ day, so she’ll ’elp us out. She’s a witch; they’re bound to ’elp out other magical folk and their, er… associates. Long as they’re truthful, mind. Just be honest with ’er and everything’ll be fine. But just be sure. Yer still wanna do this?’