“Syllabylly, of course, told us of your coming,” Ma’am Elaide continued. “A snowball was prepared in your honour. Unfortunately,” she added, eying Susie up and down, “we do not have clothes for you to change into. Snowballs in the IAO are somewhat formal occasions.”
Again indignation surged. Again, and for the same reason, Susie tamed it. “I didn’t know,” she said lamely.
“It would appear you do not know too much,” Elaide opined with a sarcasm veiled by an onion-skin. “Let the snowball commence.”
The storkestra struck up some kind of peculiar noise. It seemed to Susie it would be as danceable to as to that from a slightly corroded washing-machine.
“You are aware, are you not,” Miss Chief asked Mimimi, “that your face has turned purple?”
“Purple?” Mimimi replied.
“Who ever heard of a frog with a purple face?” Miss Chief continued, ignoring her Irish tutor.
“Oh?” asked O’Nestly. “Like yours?”
“Ours?” asked Miss Chief.
“Excuse me, Terry,” Bluemerang said to the orbuttieler, “just a moment of your time. There.” He pointed to the reflection of her face mirrored in Terry’s highly-polished beak.
Miss Chief checked her own face, thought apparently nothing of the change. She checked Bluemerang’s face and O’Nestly’s. She checked her own again. And let out, not a scream, but a SCREAM.
Dr Pellet came rushing over. Momma Shingle, of course, accompanied him.
“Our face has turned purple,” Miss Chief choked out.
“Interesting,” said Poppa. “Most, most interesting. You took the pill on an empty stomach, no? Tch, tch. The usual reaction is to turn yellow. The purple must have something to do with the original verdant pigmentation.”
“We want our face its proper green,” Miss Chief demanded.
The storkestra struck a particularly discordant chord which was the presumable coda. It then jigged into a more up-tempo rendition of a local favourite – one with all the melody of a dentist’s drill rapping with a knife-grinder.
“Let the snowball end,” Elaide announced and clapped her hands.
Whilst Susie’s relief was enormous that the noisome noise should have abated, she couldn’t help expressing her surprise that the much-vaunted snowball should have been an event of such spectacular shortevity.
“Tomorrow is a long day, child,” Elaide oozed at Susie. Both 31 and 32 aimed a look at Susie, the poison from which dribbled on the floor as it arrowed through the air. “We have ughloos to see and Emos to meet. Better ‘tis done with a full night’s sleep.”
“Take this,” Poppa told Miss Chief. He gave her a green pill. He handed another to Mimimi.
“And what will happen to us with this?” asked Miss Chief. “We’ll turn red perhaps?”
“Not a thing will happen,” Poppa chuckled good-humouredly. “Not a thing. Turn red? What a thing, what a thing. Occasionally – just very occasionally, you understand – some patients – the difficult ones – grow a few hairs from their ears. But you’ll scarcely notice it …”
“And this is sure, is it?” Miss Chief asked.
“Sure it’s sure,” said Poppa. “What a thing.”
Miss Chief swallowed the green pill. The storkestra was by now flocking out. The pengrins were starting to yawn, their smiles to droop. The other Snow-it-all had already adjourned. Elaide, clearly, was anxious to get away.
“It is now zat we eat,” said Nespa hopefully, “n’est-ce pas?”
Chapter 18
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Any lay-asleeps there might have been in Snow-it Hall that morning were thus awoken.
It was Miss Chief’s reaction to her ears – less now orbs for hearing than crowns from which bushed spectacular yarns of hair. Flocks of locks. To the extent that her face was not really a face any more but a narrow strip of eyes, nose and mouth between two hirsute … forests.
Miss Chief was aghast, appalled … and deeply depressed. No-one could hope to be successful as an amphibassador bearded as she was.
Mimimi, on the other hand, found her aural hairiness no major deal.
Poppa was impressed. Never, he told them, had he known of a reaction so violent to the medication. Well, well, well, he told them – what a thing, you live and you learn. But, looking on the bright side, their faces had waned from the deep purple of yesterday to a gentler, a more becoming lilac.
Poppa gave them another pill each. This pill (a yellow pill) would considerably reduce the hair of the ears. There were, he assured his patients, absolutely no side-effects to this pill. Well, there was one side-effect – there’s rarely a pill, you understand, with no side-effects at all. But it was so titchy, this side-effect, so titchy and so rare, it was almost like having no side-effect at all. In certain extremely rare cases, the pill could induce symptoms of a cold: sneezing and coughing, crouping and wheezing.
“Now there’s a thing,” O’Nestly told the world whilst only he was listening, “they sound remarkably similar to the symptoms you were first treated for.”
“’Cept you’ve now got a lilac blueming face,” said Bluemerang.
“And ears zat are just the smallest bit hairy,” said Nespa.
“I am very happy with your recovery,” Poppa told his patients.
“Well, we,” declared Miss Chief, “am not.”
To the chagrin of Miss Chief, Poppa laughed. “Excuse me for laughing,” the medic told Miss Chief. “But, really, there would be a thing: If we started caring what patients thought!”
He decided that Miss Chief and Mimimi should not join the party to the Ughloos. They should remain at Snow-it Hall and give the medicine a chance to work its wonders.
Miss Chief was not happy at the idea of missing any kind of a party. But, she conceded, doctor’s orders were doctor’s orders. And maybe too, that much hair protruding from the ears was hair that was not worth airing.
Outside Snow-it Hall a palanquin was waiting. This was to be the Grand Vis-all-seer’s transport. Eight pengrins were standing to attention, grinnily, waiting to mount it on their shoulders.
The palanquin was like an old-fashioned four-poster bed, but with brackets to support the poles which would enable it to be lifted. At each corner hung curtains of the finest velvet. These were held open presently by golden cords. But they could be closed with a simple pull. The bed itself was stuffed with the downiest down, that of three-day swans, perhaps, or from the breasts of goslings. A dozen cushions were scattered ostentatiously over a palanquin-spread of a deep maroon tinselled with a burnished gold. The cushions themselves were plush and melted into the hand as they were grasped. The palanquin was obviously the stretched limo of IAO transport. What Susie, in her previous life, might have called a ‘swankmobile’.
The sun was shining. Shards of a golden light flashed at the Sufrogs as they waited. But there was a ruthlessness to these shards, as if they were shafts of steel awaiting only handles for them to become swords. The warmth of the shards had at its core an icicled shiver.
A fanfarette sounded. A stream of I-knew-its rivuletted forth. 31 and 32 marched itself straight into the palanquin and started the serious business of draping itself comfortably on the cushions. Such draping was difficult to accomplish as it had to do two contradictory jobs: it had to flaunt itself before Susie, and it had to unflaunt itself before the Snow-it-allest. The combination led to an image not dissimilar to a hippopotamus trying to pretend it’s a giraffe.
The rest of the I-knew-its formed up behind the palanquin.
A louder fanfare sounded. The two Snow-it-alls known by our heroes emerged. They took positions ahead of the palanquin.
A LOUD fanfare sounded. Elaide swept through the electronic door.
She majesticked onto the palanquin.
“What are you doing here?” she asked the I-knew-it. “Out, out, out. I have things of import to impart to our guest. Syllabylly, if you remember, told us such would be in our gener
al interests. You’re still here? Join the others at the back.”
Incredulity within the I-knew-it melted into disappointment, which solidified into envy, and then roasted into an enormous and enormously seething resentment. Which resentment was bazooka’d with their eyes at Susie as they left the palanquin to join the ranks of humdrum I-knew-its behind the Vis-all-seer’s conveyance.
“Enter, child,” Elaide told Susie. The carrying pengrins looked less than enamoured at the idea of this extra weight, but the grins remained fixed and stolid. The more ominous for being so.
Susie climbed in, the Sufrogs inches behind her. Even the intrepid Bluemerang was a believer in the concept of third-class riding being better than first-class walking. And this riding, didn’t it, looked pretty first blueming class? There was therefore no contest.
“Ahead,” Elaide announced.
The palanquin was lifted. But not as a lift is lifted, steadily and evenly. First the port side of the palanquin went up, and Elaide, Susie, Sufrogs and all all cascaded to starboard. Then the other side was lifted. But not quite to the same height. Thus all the above toppled to the palanquin’s back to the port side. Then the starboard side adjusted itself and there was a more sedate slither to the centre.
“I have some questions about Earth,” Elaide told Susie as they lurched forward. Somehow all the palanquin’s sumptuousness was smothered by what was proclaiming itself to be the rockiness of the forthcoming ride. “What honours are bestowed on Earth’s leaders?”
“Oh, lots and lots, ma’am,” Susie replied. “Wealth, power, being sucked up to, being applauded everywhere they go … being taken to that everywhere by expensive cars and private jets and stuff.”
“‘Jets’?” queried Elaide. “What’s ‘jets’?”
At which point the figure which had vrrrooomed overhead during the polo-match did so again.
“That, for instance,” said Susie, “looks quite like a jet.”
“Oh, Conscut,” said Elaide, as if that explained everything. “You have Conscut on Earth? Interesting. What else? What other benefits fall to Earth’s leaders?”
“You blueming name it,” Bluemerang replied.
Finally Susie plucked up the courage to ask, “Why do the Snow-it-alls have two heads?”
“Surely even on Earth they’ve heard the expression that two heads are better than one,” said Elaide.
“I don’t think they mean attached to the same body,” Susie suggested.
“How very primitive,” said Elaide.
“It’s not primitive. Two heads on one body, it’s … well, weird.”
“Think about it,” Elaide said: “One less body to nourish, one pair of knees less to get knocked, one less constitution to get sick. Less illness, less bruises, less food.”
“Food?” asked Nespa hopefully.
“And what,” Susie asked with her gloat of trump-holder, “if one head wants to do one thing, and the other head another?”
“The strongest will wins,” triumphed Elaide. “The strongest will will always win. If emocracy had to be summed up in one sentence it would be that: The strongest will will always win.”
“And yourself now,” asked O’Nestly, “why would it then be you have only one body?”
“I, sir, am the Snow-it-allest,” Elaide replied, as if that had explained everything and as if the question, in its being posed, showed only the crassness of the questioner.
“I’d like to know more about Snow-it-allery,” Susie said, with less sycophancy than she’d fancied when she’d opened her mouth.
“Oh, you’ll find out lots about it,” said Elaide. “Lots and lots about it.” It was a promise. It sounded like a threat.
Susie squirmed. And then she jolted.
The palanquin had been dropped.
Elaide was furious. “How dare you?” she said to Susie.
Chapter 19
“Sorry?” Susie asked, her indignation again soaring to the heavens.
“We’ve stopped,” said Elaide unnecessarily.
“And just how is that my fault?” Susie wanted to know.
“I do hope my ears deceive me,” Elaide replied. She superiored a warning glance across Susie’s bows. Susie – yet again – found herself awed. She slouched into herself.
“Well …” she sulked, folding her arms across her chest.
Into one side of the palanquin Shingle popped her head. “Braindeer,” she said, as if that explained it all.
Into the other side of the palanquin Smega popped her head. “Braindeer,” she said, as if that … “Oh,” she added, seeing Shingle.
“Deal with them,” Elaide told them.
“Braindeer?” asked Mr E.
“Ruminators,” ‘explained’ Elaide. “Not, it must be admitted, one of Jeanie’s triumphs.”
“Ruminant,” said O’Nestly.
An eyebrow arched itself bridgely. “What?” asked Elaide.
“The word you’re looki- …” Even as the words were falling from his lips, O’Nestly knew he had won himself a serious enemy.
“Had that been the word I was looking for,” Elaide told him, “it would have been that the word I would have used.”
“Message received,” O’Nestly replied, his bash somewhat aed.
“What is the delay?” Elaide stomped. “How dare you keep me waiting?” she snapped, again, at Susie.
“Sorry …” Susie said, appalled with herself that she should be apologising. She pulled aside the curtains and leapt the few inches to the frozen ground.
They were on a ridge, the right side of which was defined by an upward slope and the left by a downward one. It was completely blocked by the two whatever-they-weres now blocking it. The pass had become an impasse.
The two Snow-it-alls were involved in an animated conversation, their bodies concealing those with whom they were in discussion.
Around them giant Christmas trees clawed at the sky. These trees, though, known as ‘firmament trees’, bore one marked difference to their brothers Susie had seen growing on Earth. These sprouted already decorated. Glass balls, and streams of tinsel and wooden figurines danced from their branches. On a Yuletide hearth they would have looked splendid. Growing in barren wastes they looked grotesque. It was like a puppy being born with its collar on and which already knew how to ‘heel’.
Beyond the trees, visible only partially through all the Noël frippery, was the distant summit of a snow-girthed mountain. A huge and daunting mountain.
But also a magnificent and a beautiful mountain, pitted and cragged as only those things ancient can be, possessed of a spirit and an indomitability possessed by only the ageless. Its white crackled.
“See, the point is,” Smega was telling them, “you’re hindering our progress. You cannot stay here.”
“Well, that’s a valid argument certainly,” returned a slightly warbly voice, “possibly a legitimate one, a contentious one nonetheless – as, I suppose, all argument by definition has to be. The fact remains, though, that we can. Remain here, that is.”
“Expressed another way,” said a second equally warbly voice, marginally more shrill than the first, “we have to consider, Alpha and I, whether the benefit accruing to us of the benefit to you of our moving is greater than the sum of the benefits which would accrue both to us and to you were we to remain as we are.”
Susie had approached. Thirstoy was facing away from the conversation. He spoke to Susie. “Braindeer!” he tutted. “They can be remarkably obstinate.”
Through the gap between the two Snow-it-alls Susie could now see the shape of these ‘braindeer’. Their bodies were similar in size to Santa’s reindeer, but their heads were about four times as big. They were clearly far too big, and lolloped awkwardly from their necks, more as if they were the stone balls of medieval prisoners than that part of their anatomy.
“No,” said the first braindeer, “the question, Omega, is not as simple as you suggest: We have to make an equation based on the energy required to effect
the move versus that saved by no longer having to make the calculation. In other words, if the energy required is ‘e’ and that saved is ‘s’, we have to decide whether …” And so they went on.
“Are they always like this?” Susie asked Thirstoy.
He nodded, adding, “They never move. Oh, they want to. It’s not that. It’s just that they spend so much time seeing the situation from every conceivable angle that, if it wasn’t for the occasional hunger pang, they’d never move at all. Not anywhere.”
“Is that what’s meant,” Mr E wondered, “about being ‘too clever by half’?”
“Why am I not moving?” Elaide shouted from the palanquin.
“Just one moment, ma’am,” Susie half-shouted back, her eyes once again raised to the heavens.
Bluemerang roared: “BOOOOOOOO!!!”
The two braindeer were so startled, before they could engage their brains, they had scuttled to the upside of the ridge, thus clearing the path. Bluemerang glowed with his achievement. “Sometimes,” he said, “the simplest is the best.”
“That should make you best most of the time, then,” suggested O’Nestly.
“Bimplest,” said a voice behind them, “is always the sest.”
“Cam!” Susie shouted, happy and surprised to see the polo-bears again.
“Everything all right?” Ox asked her, in that tone of voice which tries to disguise the question’s significance.
“I owe you an apology,” Susie said. “I was rude.”
“No a-polo-gy necessary,” punned Ox.
“Zere is for zat joke,” suggested Nespa.
A light wind blew flurries of snow round about them; flakes flew into their mouths, their eyes, up their noses. They assumed the irritatingness of mosquitoes. The bears seemed not even to notice them.
“See, the point is,” Smega told them, “we’ve now got to get going.”
Susie ignored this Snow-it-all suggestion.
“Where’ve you been?” she asked Ox.
“Neverrest,” he replied aloud. Under his breath he added, “Don’t keep the Snow-it-alls waiting.”
Susie and the Snow-it-alls Page 8
