by V M Jones
It couldn’t be … it was! Richard, popping up from behind Q’s leather armchair like a jack-in-the-box, his blond hair tousled and his face one massive grin … Kenta peeking from behind a curtain, her dark eyes sparkling … Jamie trundling out from behind the suit of armour, his chubby face flushed and beaming with excitement.
And another girl — a stranger — straightening up from her hiding place under Q’s computer desk and walking towards me, hands held out.
I gaped at them all … goggled at her. Questions jostled with the beginnings of answers in my numb brain. Hannah’s surprises — this must be one of them! The whole thing of Hannah missing — was it part of it too? A trick — a carefully planned not-very-funny joke? But then — where was Hannah? And the stranger — who was she? And why was she behaving like she knew me? I took her hands reluctantly in mine, feeling like a colossal fool. Behind her, Richard was grinning fit to bust, an expression on his face as if he was waiting for something. I stared at the girl. Hair a tangle of tawny gold … huge eyes as blue as cornflowers … a delicate, oval face … a smile that took my breath away. I gawked at her like an idiot, battling to make sense of it all. Her smile reminded me of someone … but who?
‘Well — are you surprised?’ she was demanding, in a voice that sounded weirdly familiar. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see us? You don’t look pleased!’
‘He doesn’t recognise you, like I said!’ hooted Rich.
‘Oh, shut up, Richard — don’t be ridiculous!’ The blue eyes flashed, and at the same time a blush spread over her lovely face … a faint pink tide that started at the end of her nose and worked its way outward, till even the tips of her perfect ears were glowing like traffic lights.
My mouth fell open. ‘Gen?’
‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about, you guys,’ Jamie said staunchly, waddling up to me and holding out a slightly sticky hand for me to shake. ‘You ought to stop teasing Gen. It hasn’t got anything to do with being bitten by the Serpent of Beauty. I think she looks just the same as she always did — she’s always been real pr—’ And he blushed bright pink too.
Seeing them all again … the unexpectedness of it, on top of the thing with Hannah … even though I was smiling, I could feel tears in my eyes. ‘It’s great to see you all,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s the coolest surprise ever. But Hannah … is she …’
I guess part of me still hoped she might pop up out of her hiding place and skip over to give me a hug. But I knew, with cold certainly like a knife in my heart, that however many surprises had been planned, Hannah’s disappearance wasn’t one of them.
Just then Q appeared in the doorway, Usherwood and Shaw grim-faced behind him. He was holding a piece of paper, but his hand was trembling so much I was sure he would drop it. Gently, I reached out and took his arm. ‘What is it, Q? Is it … a ransom note?’
He shook his head helplessly. ‘This is all too much,’ he croaked. ‘I don’t even begin to understand.’ The paper fluttered to the ground.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little silvery-grey shape scamper through the door and across the carpet. A kitten. I felt a stab of sadness — it must be Hannah’s, one of the surprises she was planning for me. And now …
I bent and picked up the paper. It was small and square, pale pink, with purple writing. It didn’t look like a ransom note. Hesitantly, I read it out, my voice sounding very loud in the silent room.
Dear Bluebell,
I love you very mutch, but I miss Tiger Lily two. When you meet her, you will umberstand egzactly how speshal she is.
Be good wile I am gone.
Love from
Hannah
XXXXX
My mind was racing. What had Hannah told Withers? I’m going to fetch someone I haven’t seen for a long, long time. Withers thought she meant me, but she didn’t. She meant Tiger Lily.
Looking round at the others’ blank faces, I couldn’t believe they didn’t understand at once. Hannah had this planned all along: the biggest surprise of all in what I knew would have been a long list of surprises.
‘Hannah’s gone to Karazan,’ I heard myself saying. ‘On her own. And if she’s gone without the microcomputer …’
We knew what we would find in the computer room, and we were right. All the computers dark and lifeless … except one. Mine: turned on, the cursor blinking patiently on an empty screen. And half-under the table, face down on the carpet, Hannah’s teddy.
We watched Q walk slowly to his desk at the front of the room. He slid open a drawer, took something out, and stood staring down at it as if he’d been turned to stone. We all knew what it was. We would have recognised it anywhere. It was the microcomputer we had taken with us into Karazan: a prototype, the only one of its kind. On its tiny keyboard, on keys the size of grains of rice, I’d input the command that catapulted us back from Karazan: Alt Control Q. It was a lifeline, a passport back to our own dimension … and it was here, in Q’s hand, in the computer room at Quested Court.
Hannah was alone in Karazan, with no way of getting back again.
‘My clothes — have you still got them?’
At the sound of my voice, a tiny smile appeared on Q’s face, but his eyes were far, far away. ‘I beg your pardon, dear boy?’
‘My gear — the stuff I wore to Karazan,’ I repeated impatiently. ‘Have you still got it, or did you chuck it all out?’
‘I — of course we still have it. But …’
‘Where is it?’ I looked up at the clock on the computer room wall. ‘I reckon it’ll take me maybe … five minutes to put it all on. In six minutes — five and a half if I’m quick — I’ll be there.’
Q was still staring at me as blankly as if I was speaking a foreign language. I didn’t have time to waste. She’d been gone nearly twenty-four hours … time enough for anything to have happened. I turned and ran out of the computer room … along the passage … up the stairs, two at a time.
‘Hey — Adam! Adam — wait up!’ Without slowing down, I glanced over my shoulder. Richard was halfway up the stairs, arms pumping, face a scowl of determination. Behind him puffed Jamie, already puce in the face. Hot on his heels, Kenta … and Gen bringing up the rear. Something in their faces made me slow and stop. I stood there on the landing, arms folded, looking down at them. They stopped too, staring up at me … and on every face, the exact same look.
I opened my mouth to say: ‘What is it?’ To say: ‘Forget it.’ To say: ‘One person will attract less attention than five — especially three with pink skin and blond hair. Especially one who looks like Gen.’ But there wasn’t time to argue. What’s more, there wasn’t any point.
So instead, I found myself grinning back down at my four friends like a prize idiot. ‘OK then — have it your way! But quick — we have to hurry!’
Nanny was struggling with the buckle of Richard’s broad leather belt. ‘Well, I declare, you have grown,’ she was muttering. ‘I might just need to put another hole in this …’
‘Yes, grown fatter,’ teased Gen, rapidly braiding her hair into a tawny rope in front of the mirror.
‘This isn’t fat, it’s muscle,’ Richard retorted. ‘And you should stop preening. Typical girl — any mention of going anywhere, and it’s “Ooh, my hair!” and “What shall I wear?”, whether it’s a desperate rescue mission or a trip to the mall …’
The door opened and Q stood there, looking at us. The dazed look was gone. His blue eyes were bright and piercing behind his specs — fresh smears made me wonder whether he’d tried to clean them on the way up the stairs.
‘I’m not going to argue with you,’ he said quietly. ‘As you know, I’m not a practical man. I was annoyed with myself last time for not thinking of your pale skins, and how they’d stand out in Karazan.’ For a second, he looked almost embarrassed. ‘I thought — too late, of course — that I should have provided something to darken you up … make you look less conspicuous. But I looked into it, and came up with this.’ He walked over to the top dra
wer of the dresser, opened it, and produced a small bottle, holding it up for us to see. ‘Tyrotemp, used by theatrical companies, I believe. Based on the natural skin-darkening enzyme tyrosinase … guaranteed to last a week, then fade completely. I —’
But Jamie was reaching out an eager pink hand. ‘Awesome, Q! I’ve always wanted a tan! Bags I first go!’
Ten minutes later we were ready to go. At Nanny’s insistence we’d each wolfed down a steak pie — ‘I’ve never let a child head off on an adventure on an empty stomach yet, and I’m not about to start now!’ — in fact Rich and Jamie had gobbled down two, in record time. The weight of my backpack felt familiar and reassuring.
It had given me a weird feeling of excitement to see it again … I bent my head to sniff it, and sure enough, there was the faint, indescribable fragrance that was Karazan. I checked quickly through the contents: compass, sleeping bag, compact aluminium cooking pot, lighter … and there, in the front pocket, a replacement for the pocketknife I’d given Kai. Rich was holding up an identical one, a grin of delight on his broad brown face. Brown face … I stared round at the others. Gen’s pale prettiness had darkened to a golden glow — with her mane of sandy hair, she looked as wild and beautiful as a young lioness. Kenta, naturally darker-skinned like me, was the same as ever; Rich looked like a real beach bum, his teeth startlingly white in his beaming bronzed face.
As for Jamie … he was peering anxiously into the mirror with his back to us. ‘Well, come on, Jamie,’ goes Rich, ‘let’s have a look at the new, improved James Fitzpatrick!’
Slowly, reluctantly, Jamie turned round. His hair was its usual neatly combed blond pudding-bowl … and beneath it shone a woebegone moon-face, bright orange as the setting sun. Richard gave a splutter of laughter, which he quickly turned into a cough when he saw the tears in Jamie’s eyes. Kenta was at his side in an instant. ‘Jamie — what happened? However did you do that? What went wrong?’
‘I — I just … like I said, I’ve never had a tan before. I always burn, then peel,’ said Jamie miserably. ‘So I thought I’d put on a double dose — just to be sure it’d take, you know … seeing I have such a fair skin. A delicate skin, my mum always says,’ he added, a touch defensively. He rubbed uselessly at his face with orange fingers. ‘But now …’
‘Now you look like a carrot,’ said Rich cheerfully. ‘A walking, talking carrot — or an orange turnip, more like. Still, never mind, Jamie — what did Q say? Guaranteed to last a week, then fade completely. Let’s hope he’s right! And meanwhile, we can use you as a torch if our batteries run out …’
‘Oh, give it a break, Richard,’ said Gen crossly. ‘He doesn’t look too bad … and if he keeps his cloak on and the hood pulled forward, no one will even notice. Now, has everyone got everything?’
‘Perhaps you should each take a good book …’
‘Groundsheets, water bottles, dehydrated food — and plenty of it — sunscreen, insect repellent, polypropylene underwear, something for runny tummies …’ recited Nanny, ticking things off on a list.
‘Oh come on, come on — can’t we just go?’ begged Gen, in an agony of impatience.
‘I’m sure there’s something I’ve forgotten — something really, really obvious, that I’ll remember the moment you leave. Oh dear, whatever can it be …’ lamented Q. ‘I wish I were more practical!’
I pulled out my shawl from my school bag and stuffed it down deep into my backpack, along with my Bible. No one was going to sneak a look inside that while I was away. Rich watched me, grinning, but didn’t say anything. I looked at him levelly, daring him to comment, running through my personal checklist in my mind. Shawl, Bible, ring — yes, there it was, cold and comforting under the rough fabric of my shirt — penny whistle… I felt a pang of loss. Who knows when, if ever, I’d see it again … A mental image of Weevil flashed into my mind, but I pushed it roughly away.
And finally we were back downstairs, each in front of our computer, screens on and ready to go. I tried to tune out Q’s anxious voice: ‘Do be careful. I shouldn’t be letting you go, I know I shouldn’t. I’d go myself, but I still haven’t managed to modify the programme to allow adults to make the transition … to tell the truth, I haven’t even been trying, what with Power … what with working on my new game. Now whatever you do, never forget things aren’t always as they seem … and remember spontaneous evolution, children — things change, and the changes are not always for the good …’
‘Ready?’ I asked. Four heads nodded; four faces, in varying shades of tan, stared intently at their screens.
‘OK then —’
‘Wait!’ yelped Q. Our hands froze above the keyboards. ‘I’ve remembered! Don’t go yet! I won’t be a moment —’
He turned and sprinted, with surprising speed, out through the door. ‘Quick — let’s go before he gets back, or he’ll never let us leave,’ grumbled Rich.
‘I think we should wait,’ quavered Jamie. ‘Maybe it’s something really important. Or perhaps he’s thought of somewhere else Hannah might be. Maybe we won’t have to go to Karazan after all!’
Richard snorted. ‘Maybe orange turnips can fly,’ he retorted. ‘Anyhow, no one’s making you go.’
‘I know,’ said Jamie with dignity. ‘But a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. That’s what my dad always says …’
At that moment Q burst back into the room, something glinting in his hand. ‘Here they are!’ he panted. ‘Thank goodness I remembered! There’s only a little bit left of the healing one, but even that … you never know …’
Solemnly, he held out the crystal phials. One glimmered with a strange, milky-blue fluorescence: the last remnants of the magic healing potion that had saved Hannah’s life. More useful than Nanny’s medicine by a long shot, I thought grimly. The other, still full, was blacker than ink: the Potion of Power. Wrapped in my shawl, they were the only two to have survived the transition back from Karazan to our world. I dug for my shawl again and tucked the phials snugly into its soft folds, then packed it safely away.
‘And now —’ said Rich.
‘Yes, now I suppose you really had better be off,’ said Q reluctantly.
Rich looked over at me, fingers poised. I gave him a grin. Across the room Jamie was staring at his computer screen, eyes bulging like an exotic goldfish. Gen’s face was tense and focused, Kenta’s self-contained and still. ‘Ready? One … two … three!’
Five sets of fingers came down on five sets of keys … and the computer room at Quested Court vanished in less than an instant, as if it had never existed.
An open door
‘Any one of you could pass through from our world to Karazan as easily as walking through an open door,’ Q had once said. It was true. Making the transition from our world to Karazan was even more effortless than that, for me at least. Like blinking: eyes open — our world; blink and open them again — Karazan.
My eyes blinked open on a crisp autumn morning. The red-gold Karazan sun shone down from the pale bowl of sky without any real warmth. Above me, the endless cliff reared up as far as I could see — in a few hours the rock I was sitting on would be in deep shade, and bitterly cold. Snow lay in crystal patches at its foot, and in a deeper drift on the western side of the standing stone a few paces away, protected from the morning sun by the stone itself, and the afternoon sun by the looming cliff.
The air had a frosty bite, making my cheeks sting and my eyes water. Eagerly, I drank in its wintry freshness, my eyes searching for the far glint of the sea and the distant walls of Arakesh above the gold and copper carpet of forest stretching away below me. I strode over to the tall stone and laid my forehead against its cold, unyielding surface. Closed my eyes, and breathed in the strange, familiar scents of Karazan. It was good to be back.
‘Adam! Adam — I bumped my head on the way through!’
‘Don’t be stupid, Jamie — what could you possibly have bumped it on?’
‘Let me look. There is an odd-looking splodge on y
our forehead, though it’s hard to tell for certain under the oran — hard to tell for certain. Does it hurt when I touch it?’
‘I feel like my insides have been taken out with an ice-cream scoop and left behind at Quested Court!’
‘My pants are all wet — I landed in a patch of snow. I don’t suppose I could pop back quickly and ch—’
‘No!’ The chorus that met Jamie’s tentative suggestion brought me suddenly back to earth — or at any rate, back to reality — with a grin. I straightened, stretching, and watched my four friends picking themselves up and dusting away the ice crystals that clung to the boys’ breeches and the girls’ ragged tunics.
Back to reality … Hannah.
Frowning, I scanned the russet tussock that covered the hillside. Richard followed my gaze. ‘Yeah — let’s not forget why we’re here! What say we spread out like a proper search party,’ he suggested cheerfully. ‘Hunt for signs, like trackers: a button, or a footprint; a message written in the snow … maybe even an arrow showing which way she went!’
‘Or she could have left a trail of breadcrumbs so she could find her way back, like in Hansel and Gretel!’ said Gen eagerly.
So we spread out and searched … but we found nothing. Not the tiniest clue that anyone other than ourselves had ever set foot on the deserted hillside.
After half an hour or so, Jamie plumped down on the low, lichen-covered rock. ‘What say we have some morning tea?’ he said hopefully.
‘We should carry on looking,’ objected Richard. ‘We’re not on some kind of boy-scout camp, or a picnic.’ Jamie turned a deeper shade of orange, and lumbered reluctantly to his feet.
‘Do you think we should try calling?’ Kenta suggested. ‘If she is still within earshot … injured, or trapped somewhere …’ So we cupped our hands round our mouths like loudspeakers and called, over and over, our voices thin and lost-sounding in the cold air: ‘Hannah! Hannah! Hannah!’
