by C. J. Busby
“And our world is just one of them?” said Simon.
“– worlds of little islands scattered over bright seas,” went on Caractacus, ignoring him. “But the creatures of the dark resented the way their realm was being constantly pushed back by the growth of the worlds of light. They wanted to destroy the Tree. So the tree guardians and those creatures and humans who had some magic –”
“They became the forest agents!” said Simon. “Didn’t they?”
Caractacus paused long enough to fix Simon with a baleful glare, and then went on intoning: “– joined together to protect the Tree and fight the ice and darkness. Until one day, there arose an enemy so powerful that the forest agents were nearly overwhelmed and the Tree destroyed …” He broke off, and in a more normal voice, added, “I was just a young whippersnapper in those days, a mere fledgling magic-user, but I remember it as if it were yesterday … the fear that fell over the forest when the name of Lukos, Lord of Wolves, was whispered.” He held up one leg and waggled it at them both. “You have no idea how hard we fought, and how close it was. Why, I remember –”
“We know about this!” interrupted Simon eagerly. “Albert told us. And we know about how the king, Bruni, made the amber crown to defeat Lukos, and that’s where the deep amber comes from. If someone could gather all the amber, they could remake the crown and use it to rule all the worlds. That’s why it’s so important to find the other bits of amber before Lord Ravenglass does …”
He trailed off, fixed with an awful stare by Caractacus. Cat wanted to giggle but didn’t dare in case the stare was turned on her next.
“You know all this,” said Caractacus deliberately, with a wave of his tentacles. “Of course you do. That’s why you are so eager to attract all the forces of darkness to your bedroom, no doubt. Using the amber! Opening ways to so many different worlds! What were you thinking?”
Simon frowned. “But we didn’t use the amber. We were using the sword. We were trying to get to the kingdom.”
Caractacus looked completely taken aback.
“The sword?” he said. He turned to Cat. “You weren’t using the amber?”
“No,” she said. She felt for the chain around her neck, and pulled the beautiful yellow-orange jewel out from under her T-shirt. “I wasn’t even touching it – and I didn’t feel it get hot or anything. Simon was the one doing the magic.” She looked over at him. “I told you that you were doing it wrong,” she said accusingly. “They were different worlds!”
Simon shrugged. “I was doing what Dora showed me. It seemed to work. I thought objects made portals to where they came from?”
“They do – usually,” said Caractacus, with a frown. “This sword – it’s the one that belonged to your father, I take it? Gwyn Arnold’s sword. Perhaps I should have a look at it.”
Simon passed it over and Caractacus felt along its length with each of his legs in turn, and then squinted at the carvings on the blade. After a while he looked up. His expression was hard to read.
“Interesting,” he said.
There was a long pause while Cat and Simon looked at each other and then at Caractacus. He seemed lost in thought.
“Um – interesting how?” said Cat eventually.
Caractacus looked startled at the sound of her voice, and then waved one of his legs distractedly.
“It’s a very ancient sword. And there’s only one sword I know of that could open a portal to more than one world …” He trailed off, and then fixed them both with his piercing golden eyes. After a moment he seemed to come to a decision.
“We need to take it to the forest. It will have to be examined.”
Simon reached out for the sword, and put a protective hand on its hilt.
“It’s mine,” he said. “If you’re taking it to the forest, you’ll have to take me, too.”
Caractacus uncurled his long, caterpillar-like body, and wriggled his tentacles at Simon.
“Of course, foolish boy,” he said. “You’ve proved yourself no end of trouble, opening portals to all those worlds. Best off in the forest where we can keep an eye on you!”
“If Simon’s going, you’ll have to take me, too,” said Cat swiftly. There was no way she was letting Simon go off on his own. For one thing, it wasn’t safe, and for another, she wasn’t going to be left out of any adventure that might be had.
Caractacus turned to her with a bow. “Naturally you must come too,” he said. “The wielder of the earth amber. I think on the whole it’s best you are both in the forest. Things seem to be moving very quickly now. Ravenglass and his henchmen are everywhere, and we can’t afford any mishaps. Too much is at stake.”
As he spoke, the light in the room appeared to dim, and Cat felt a slight shiver come over her. It had seemed a bit of a game, trying to use magic and find a way to the kingdom. But Caractacus’s words had reminded her of just what was out there, the powers that were ranged against them – the danger to their world, and all the others, from Lord Ravenglass and the dark crow men.
“When – when should we go?” she said. “And what are we going to tell Mum?”
“Ah, yes, your mother,” said Caractacus thoughtfully. “I think maybe a little enchantment may be necessary.”
It was early evening by the time Florence Arnold came home from the museum. Cat and Simon had packed small rucksacks to take with them, and Simon had put Frizzle safely in his cage and left him with some extra food.
“Frizzle?” Caractacus said with a snort. “You kept a flying margravet from Tallatertius and you called him Frizzle?”
“He likes it,” Simon said defensively, tickling Frizzle under the chin.
Caractacus sighed and waved one leg at them both. “Well, I daresay he does. Tallatertius is a rather unpleasant world, all things considered. Being called Frizzle and having to live in a cage is probably a small price to pay for not being eaten by a glauraptor.”
All that remained was to say goodbye to Florence and make sure she wouldn’t worry about their absence. Cat felt rather nervous as her mum walked into the kitchen and dumped her work bag on the table with a sigh.
“Er – cup of tea, Mum?” she said, and Florence looked over gratefully.
“That would be nice,” she said, and then she saw Caractacus and frowned. “What the –?”
Caractacus waved an imperious tentacle at her and muttered a few strange-sounding words.
“There’s no need to be concerned,” he instructed her in a firm voice. “Catrin and Simon are going on a school trip. It’s all been arranged.”
For a moment Cat thought it wasn’t going to work. There was something rather odd about Mum’s expression as she looked at the blue caterpillar. But as he spoke, her face gradually cleared, and she smiled.
“Of course,” she said. “I’d forgotten. Have you got your bags packed, darlings?”
Cat nodded. She hated having to deceive Mum like this – it felt quite wrong. But on the other hand, they were finally going to the kingdom. They’d be travelling to the land where their dad had grown up, finding out more about who he had really been. Cat reached for the amber round her neck. It felt comforting in her hand. She knew it had immense power, and she knew that if need be, she could use it to protect them, herself and Simon – and whoever else needed it. She smiled at Mum and gave her a big hug.
“Bye,” she said. “I love you.”
Florence smiled down at her. “I love you too. Have a brilliant time. And look after Simon.”
“Of course!” said Cat indignantly. “I always look after Simon.”
Florence laughed and turned to Simon. “Be good,” she said.
Simon gave her a big hug, and then another for luck.
“I’m always good!” he said with a grin.
“Well, we must be off,” said Caractacus briskly and waved vaguely at the back door to the garden. “We’ll be back when … well … when we’re back.”
“Have a lovely time!” said Florence. “See you soon!”
&nb
sp; Simon moved eagerly to the door and Cat followed. She was excited to be going, but there was something that was bothering her, something to do with her mum’s expression when she first saw Caractacus. As Cat thought about it, she suddenly realised what it was. For a moment, Mum had almost looked as if she’d recognised him … and the shock on her face had been tinged with fear. Cat shook her head. She must have imagined it, surely? She took a deep breath and walked through the back door, out of the kitchen and into another world entirely.
PART THREE
Chapter Six
The Druid was haggling over a richly embroidered waistcoat with a large, jovial-looking stallholder.
“But sir, observe,” said the stallholder, stroking the fine material with a calloused thumb. “The close weave, the excellence of the embroidery, and,” he lowered his voice, “the extreme stupidity of your arrival here… leaves me at a loss for words!” He raised one dark eyebrow at the Druid and surreptitiously wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a cotton handkerchief.
“You call this fine embroidery?” said the Druid loudly, with a glance sideways at a small buzzing machine that flew past their heads and then continued weaving down the narrow lane. “Why, my mother could have done better with all her fingers tied together with catgut … And it is indeed a foolish adventure, my friend, but I am,” he took a quick look around and leant further over the stall, “in a bit of a fix. Is there somewhere we can go?”
“Twelve, you say?” said the stallholder in a tone of outrage. “I cannot accept less than thirty Sumerian shillings for this finely crafted piece. But if you wish to spend less money I can, ahem –” he coughed and gestured to a curtain behind the stall – “show you a few less extravagant items?”
The Druid nodded, and the man clapped his hands loudly. “Ishmel – come and mind the stall!” he called, and a thin man with a drooping face dipped his head out from behind the curtain.
“But, Rahul, I am right in the middle of a calculation,” he objected.
“Mind the stall!” said Rahul firmly with a nod at the Druid. The other man’s eyes widened, and he stepped out of the small booth behind the stall and took his place, calling to the passers-by, “Fine embroideries, ladies and gentlemen! Fine embroideries from the far north – you won’t get better or cheaper!”
Rahul gestured for the Druid to follow him, and then slipped into the small, dark booth and threw himself onto a pile of cushions, wiping his forehead and taking a deep breath.
“Sargon’s Holy Beard! When I saw that spycopter passing I nearly died. What possessed you to come back?”
The Druid folded his long legs under him and joined Rahul on the cushions with a sigh.
“It’s not by choice, believe me,” he said heavily. “Only the greatest need would send me back here after last time. Tell me – is Ra-Kaleel still Chief Ensi of the city?”
Rahul mopped his forehead again and nodded, settling his bulk more comfortably on the cushions.
“He is. But even if he wasn’t – twenty years is not long enough for the authorities to have forgiven you, my friend. The Akkadian Empire bears its grudges for millennia!”
He sighed, and then reached forward and clasped the Druid by the shoulders, looking at him very solemnly.
“It is good to see you, brother,” he said. “Despite the danger.” He enveloped the Druid in a warm embrace. The Druid found his nose squashed against the rich embroidery of Rahul’s waistcoat, inhaling the spicy smells of sandalwood and cedar that he associated with this particular corner of the Grand Akkadian Empire.
At last Rahul let him go and reached for a tray on which were set several ornate glasses and a brass teapot very like the one the Druid had in his pack. He poured a rich dark-green liquid into two glasses and passed one to the Druid.
“To your health – may your shadow never grow short,” he said, lifting his glass. His wide smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle up into deep folds and his snaggly brown teeth made him look suddenly villainous. “To the legendary Thieves of Ur!” he said, and drained his glass in one gulp.
The Druid raised his glass with a wry smile and drained it, slapping the glass down on the tray with a ringing sound.
“To the Thieves of Ur,” he said, and then, leaning forward, his eyes starting to lose their focus, he slurred, “Do they still … thieve?”
“Why, yes, of course!” said Rahul, as the Druid slumped across the cushions in front of him, unconscious. “We thieve – as always – for the person with the highest price to offer …”
Ra-Kaleel, Chief Ensi of the Imperial City of Ur-Akkad, and thus second only in power to the Sargon, was sipping a glass of mint tea thoughtfully and trying to work out why he had a niggling sense of unease. The palace was quiet – the Ninety-ninth Sargon was on his annual pilgrimage to the Holy City of Atlantis and half the court had gone with him. This had given Ra-Kaleel, as it did every year, the opportunity to tighten discipline in the troops and reinforce strict laws of obedience among the population of the city. As a result, everyone was too terrified to put a foot out of place and the court and temples were running smoothly, just as the Chief Ensi liked it.
No, it wasn’t discipline that was the problem. It was something else. Something in the air. A sense of untamed magic, somewhere outside the channels of containment Akkad had used to control magic for generations. Maybe there was a renegade magic-user at large in the city, despite all his efforts. Maybe one had arrived from outside the Empire …?
Ra-Kaleel smiled. It made his thin, stretched face look a little like a snake’s. He would enjoy hunting out a new magic-user. It was a long time since he’d had the chance to use the might of the Akkadian Empire to crush an outcast enemy of the Sargon.
He clapped his hands and summoned the captain of the guards, a short, stocky man of Babylonian extraction.
“Timon, we have an enemy at large. I can feel it. Somewhere close. Bring me the chief spymaster – I want every soldier on his guard, every informer alerted, every priest in the temples on watch. I want the movements of every creature in the city recorded and checked by the spycopters for unusual activity. If there’s a new rat in the palace sewer – if the bakery on New Moon Street makes two extra loaves of bread – if a spider so much as builds its web in a different corner of the meanest hovel in the Potter’s Quarter, I want to know. Do you understand?”
The captain looked startled, but he bowed his head immediately. “It shall be as you wish, O great Ensi.”
Ra-Kaleel’s dark eyes glittered. “If you value your life,” he said, and smiled.
Chapter Seven
The decorated tile that Dora and Jem had used to make a portal had once adorned the wall of the robing room in the Temple of Ishtar at the centre of the noble and imperial city of Ur-Akkad. So that was where the portal took them. The room was small and dimly lit, filled with long racks of embroidered robes and headdresses. Luckily for Jem and Dora, Ishtar was not the favoured goddess of the current Sargon, who preferred the warrior god, Ababaza, and had shifted most of his priests and officials to the rival temple complex on the other side of the city. Still, there was a full complement of temple servants and a number of dedicated priests and priestesses. So Jem and Dora barely had time to adjust their eyes to the gloom in the robing room before the door opened, and a rather startled voice called out in surprise.
“Who – who are you? What are you doing here?”
“We got lost,” said Jem confidently. “Sorry. Any chance you could show us the way out?”
The figure standing in the doorway was a girl. She was taller than Dora – about the same height as Jem – and she was wearing a plain white dress and leather sandals. Her dark hair was braided, with bright jewels and beads threaded into it, and her skin was the soft black colour of a night sky. She gave Dora and Jem a swift once-over and then shut the door behind her and pressed her hand against the wall. Instantly the room lit up with a bright yellow light – it was as if the girl had opened a large window and let in
the glare of the midday sun. Jem gasped, and Dora tried to work out if the girl had used a spell, but it didn’t feel like it. It was more like the – what was it? – the electricity they’d seen in Simon and Cat’s world. But there was a muted feel of magic about the place, Dora was sure.
There was a knock at the door and an imperious voice from beyond it.
“Inanna! Have you got the robes? Hurry up!”
“Just a minute!” the girl called back. “Nearly there …”
She put her finger to her lips, and gestured for Dora and Jem to follow her. Hurrying across the room she reached the opposite wall, which was decorated with a large relief carving of a city scene. Taking firm hold of a protruding spire from one of the buildings, she twisted, and a long upright crack appeared across the relief. She pulled at it and a door slid back, revealing a dark passage.
“In there!” hissed the girl. “Wait for me!” She pushed Dora and Jem towards it urgently, and then ran back to the other door and slipped out, grabbing a couple of long silvery robes on her way.
Dora looked at Jem and raised her eyebrows. He shrugged. “She’s seen us and she hasn’t raised the alarm. We may as well do what she says, for now.”
Dora nodded, and the two of them slipped into the dark passageway and waited.
It wasn’t long before the girl returned, closing the door to the robing room after her and dousing the light with a flick of her hand. She followed them into the passageway and then slid the fake wall shut with a click. Dora was surprised to find that the passageway was not completely dark – a faint glow from somewhere above was making it possible to see Jem’s face next to her, and the white dress of their guide.
“Stay quiet!” the girl whispered to them. “Follow me …”
As they set off up the passage, Jem sidled up to Dora and hissed in her ear. “My mouth feels funny. When we talk. It doesn’t feel quite right.”
