“I meant, the penalty is to be taken back to the Snippets and asked not to return to our glorious town of Thunderdomia. And I don’t need a stupid faun correcting me, all right? Remember, you are our prisoner,” he hissed.
Why don’t they know if they’re Snippets or Nids? asked Conscience.
The situation was spiralling down into madness. The creatures were everything Lucy had feared, cutesy and bonkers all at once.
There was a commotion as the second of the doors on the Mayor’s house was thrown open. In the doorway stood what looked to be the exact same mayor. He was the same size, build, had the same silly moustache, clothes and top hat. The only difference was the sash this new mayor wore was gold instead of bronze.
She glanced from the gold mayor to bronze mayor, and from the bronze mayor to gold mayor, and back again, but it was already impossible to say, which was which.
Which is which? Tears and tears, tears and tears.
Flip-it, the stupid rhyme was back, dancing around in her head like a hyperactive choir boy.
“Ah ha, Mayor Curtis,” said the bronze mayor, “we have caught your spies, and we formally ask you to take them back.”
So this is a Snippet? With a gold sash? And the one with the bronze sash is a Nid? So, what’s the difference? Conscience asked.
Lucy honestly couldn’t say.
“We shall do no such thing, Mayor Cletus,” said the gold mayor. “Why, these are obviously your own spies, and you are trying to get them behind our lines as double agents. Nevertheless, I’ve seen through your plans. You can’t pawn those spies off on us.”
“These are Snippet spies,” cried Mayor Cletus.
“Nid spies!” shouted Mayor Curtis.
Lucy’s brain was beginning to seize up like an old Ferris wheel at a church fair. The two were identical, even down to their ferocity towards each other. This was a stand-off, a tug of war and wills and the travellers were the rope. Her eyes flicked from Snippet to Nid, but she couldn’t tell the difference. She felt her brain being forced apart like the Red Sea.
The coercion spell beat in her chest. Get on with the quest—onwards ever onwards—no time for delay—on with the quest—to the Falls of Wanda.
She had to get on, finish this stupid quest, save this world and get back to her own. Maybe she would simply step through the mirror and be in her bathroom again. Perhaps it would be a dream, and she’d wake up in her bed. Possibly, she would finally face the author and get some explanations. Maybe she was mad and in a hospital with syphilis. She didn’t know which one of these would prove true, but she did know one thing: she couldn’t stay here and wait for these stupid Munchkin people to let her go. She would have to make her own way out.
“Look,” she said, “since both of you want the other side to take us away. Why don’t we, as worldly travellers, simply move on through your lovely town of Thunderdomia, or Thunderanium, or whatever it’s called, and we’ll be on our merry way? And you can get on with…with… What were you doing?”
“Having a war,” said the two mayors, in unison.
“A war?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, a war, and since you are prisoners of said war, we can’t let you go until you’ve been sentenced and handed back to the enemy,” said Mayor Cletus, proudly.
“I told you, we weren’t taking them; they’re your spies!” shouted Mayor Curtis.
“Wait a minute, you lot are at war—with each other?” Talbot asked.
“Oh yes! Have been for many years now,” said Mayor Curtis, putting his arm around Mayor Cletus and smiling.
“Aren’t you a little close to each other to be at war?” asked the faun, staring at the bisected township.
“Oh no,” said Mayor Cletus, “this is much easier than war with someone far away. Here we only have to go outside and there’s our enemy—on our doorstep, so to speak. It keeps the people’s minds on the war effort.”
Several affirming honks klaxoned from the gathered crowd of Snippets and Nids.
“And besides, being at war has been very profitable for the town’s economy. Nothing like a good war to drive business. And morale has never been higher. Everyone feels splendid knowing we are fighting at the right hand of god,” Mayor Curtis said.
“That’s right,” said Mayor Cletus, who had an ear for snappy tag lines, “everyone behind the war effort and it’ll all be over by next harvest.”
Lucy stared around at the happy beaming faces of the Snippets and Nids as they all listened to the jihadist proclamation, honking their approval in a proletarian goose chorus.
“But wars are terrible things, full of blood and destruction and death,” she protested.
“Well, we haven’t actually got around to that part yet,” said Mayor Curtis. “We’re still in the initial planning stages, but I’m sure we can soon get down to the nitty-gritty of fighting. And every glorious death will bring us one step closer to peace.”
“The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows. Every sacrifice will be remembered in stone,” said Mayor Cletus. “Even so, first we have to find a nice piece of ground to have the fighting on.”
“And a nice day for it,” added Mayor Curtis. The town’s folk honked their agreement.
“Got to be a nice day. We don’t want to get wet. Someone might get sick,” said a Nid.
“And we must get the posters done. We don’t want anyone to miss out on the fun,” said Mayor Cletus.
“Yeah,” agreed a Snippet from the crowd, “I want to kill them heathen devils.”
“Infidel scum,” retorted a Nid.
“It must be on a weekend,” said Mayor Curtis, “can’t have people missing work, can we?”
“We might need a referee,” shouted someone from the crowd.
Lucy was unsure if it was a Snippet or a Nid.
“As you see, there is an awful lot of planning to do,” said Mayor Cletus.
“Yes, I can see that,” said Lucy, baffled. “So, why are you at war?”
“This used to be one town,” continued Mayor Curtis. “That was until those damn Nids started to worship that heathen statue V’Daphne.”
“As I recall, Mayor Curtis, it was you Snippets, who started worshipping that idolatrous statue U’rac. Whilst it was we who never strayed from the true faith,” said Mayor Cletus, smugly. “Then the blasphemers declared a crusade on us.”
“And you, sacrilegious pigs, declared a jihad against us,” spat back Mayor Curtis.
The two fell into bickering again.
“Wait, wait, wait.” interrupted Lucy, stepping between the fractious pair. “Who are V’Daphne and U’rac?”
Why do you want to know that? Let’s just get out of here.
I know those names, but they aren’t out of a book, but I know them from somewhere.
She could feel the knowledge, like a sneeze’s edge, at the back of her head. It irritated her and kept slipping away from her mental grasp. Where had she heard those names before?
I’ve just checked the data banks and there’s no literary reference to U’rac or V’Daphne, and there’s no sign of them anywhere else in your memory either. I suppose they could always be locked away on Deck 7.
She would just have to gamble. She’d have to let him into that part of her brain. She knew it would lead him to uncover her affections for Ravi, but there was no choice.
She must know what it was she knew, even at the risk of upsetting Conscience. He wasn’t going to like Ravi. He was already jealous of Talbot. She thought he might flip if he thought she wanted to be romantic with someone, but that was a risk she would have to take. She didn’t even really know how she was stopping him getting in. It just seemed to happen. She wasn’t sure if she could even let him in, but she had to try. She needed to know.
Conscience, she thought, you are just going to have to get in there and find out what it is I know that I’m keeping from myself.
“U’rac and V’Daphne,” said Mayor Cletus, “are the Statues of Cleverness. They are the fountai
ns of all the knowledge for the Snippets and Nids. They stand on either bank of the River Wash, which flows a few miles from here.”
“At one time they spoke as one,” continued Mayor Curtis, “but now they disagree. We Ni…Snippets believe that U’rac speaks the truth, whilst listening to V’Daphne is heresy.”
“And we,” said Mayor Cletus, spreading his arm at the left side of the town’s folk, “believe that the only salvation lies within V’Daphne’s words.”
“Lies!” cried Mayor Curtis.
“Heretic!” retorted his counterpart.
Hold on, I’ve got an idea, thought Lucy, as the two mayors went back to bickering. What if one of these truth-telling statues actually does always tell the truth and is an oracle of some sort?
Well, one sides would be correct and their pointless war might actually be justified, as it might prove a theological point?
No. If one of them does tell the truth, then they should be able to answer the riddling box, so we can open it and get the key out.
Hey, that’s a good idea. We’d be a bit closer to completing the quest! It’s certainly worth a try. In the meantime, I’ll still try to get into Deck 7, just in case. I’m sure you have the answers in there too.
“We wish to be taken to these statues,” Lucy shouted.
Both mayors abandoned their theological debate.
The whole town, as one, turned and stared blankly at Lucy.
“Why?” asked a tremulous voice from the crowd.
“Since, both sides, in this war, believe we are spies for the other side, only the truth-telling statues can tell you whose side we are on. They could use some…divine judgement…or something.”
There was a momentary silence. The crowd eyeballed the pair closely. Then Mayor Cletus broke the silence.
“Very well, we shall go to V’Daphne for judgement. All praise V’Daphne, blessings be upon her.”
“And we shall take you to the Lord Father U’rac. Off to the Statues of Cleverness!” cried Mayor Curtis.
We’re off to see the wizard! sang Conscience, as Talbot and Lucy were herded off towards the Statues of Cleverness by both sides of the absurd war, all parties, bickering and squabbling all the way along the yellow brick road.
Chapter 20 The Statues of Cleverness
So, Alice took her vorpal blade,
her foes from her did fly.
By the Wash’s bank,
they all then shrank.
“Compassion,” her battle cry.
Found engraved, anachronistically,
on the inside of a suit of armour
belonging to Lord Falcrum after his victory,
and his death, at the Battle of Cantab,
Year After Ice 15099
“Stones are harsh. Stones are cold. Stones don’t care about the living. Blood can be cast upon them but they turn their backs. How I wish I was a stone.”
General Thrax, Year After Ice 11958
Lucy had to concede it was very awe-inspiring. The whole party was still over two miles from the statues, but she could perceive them rising out of the landscape like lost, stone sails on the horizon.
The town of the Snippets and Nids was built on a large flat plateau which disguised the country’s nature around it. The surrounding area was all rolling hills and deep dales. The River Wash cut a callous route through the sloping hills. The undulating ground banked steeply down and became a gorge fifteen feet above the rapid moving water.
Lucy noticed as the party approached the statues that the two stone edifices were built on opposing river banks. They rose from the bottom of a deep dale and overlooked the crest of the surrounding hills. They must have been at least a hundred feet tall, perhaps even more, although it was impossible to say at such a distance.
The first statue was of a tall, lean looking man. The other: a woman with a headscarf.
The male statue wore a long flowing toga and was crowned with laurels. His left hand stretched out palm up, as if giving the signal to halt. His right hand caught the swirl of his toga and lifted it, revealing a well-chiselled ankle with an anklet made from pieces of amethyst.
The female statue, on the river’s right bank, was also dressed in a toga. Her khimar covered her head leaving just her face exposed to the elements. With her right hand, she clutched a book to her breast. Even from two miles away Lucy could read the giant letters on the front of it: THE ALICE COMPENDIUM.
Alice, Alice everywhere but not a moment to think, parodied Conscience.
The party snaked down the hill, Nids on one side, Snippets on the other. Upon reaching the gorge, they followed the water’s course leading them ever closer to the great stone edifices. The river babbled and gurgled beside them. It teemed with fish. The depressing thought hit her that soon, if the Snippets and Nids had their way, it would be filled with blood and bodies. She couldn’t let that happen, even to these annoying, cutesy, Disney character things.
The statues stood in front of the crowd like giant landscape bookends. She scrutinised the male colossus’ face.
I know that face, she thought.
Really? replied Conscience.
Yes. Don’t you recognise it too?
Not really, all you corporeal beings look alike to me. I’ve just about gotten the hang of the differences between the sexes, but that’s about it. Who do you think he looks like?
He looks like…like…flip-it!
The thought was there, almost on at the edge of her brain. It was just like the answer to the box’s riddle; she knew it, but the answer simply wouldn’t come. It was so annoying, like a lump of seed stuck between her teeth.
I can’t think who it is. Can you do some cross referencing on that star ship of yours?
Hold on…Miss Pride? Can we…well, stop doing that and start doing this… Don’t answer back. I’ve had quite enough of your snide comments. Cross reference the statue’s face with known faces in the memory banks. Thank you.
Lucy heard some beeping and the sound of a busy bridge.
All right, we have some results, but I don’t think you’re going to like them.
She was sure she wasn’t going to like them. She wasn’t liking anything about this world anymore. Either it was a product of her diseased brain, or it was controlled by an evil overlord known as the Dimn, or it was written by an equally mysterious author. No, there was nothing she liked about this world.
Based on the general arrangement of the statue’s features, the length of nose, width across the eyes, the placement of the cheek bones; the statue resembles Talbot.
Talbot? she thought in surprise.
Yes, Talbot. I knew you weren’t going to like it. Miss Pride ran a second analysis. It seems that everyone in this world kind of resembles each other anyway. The faun has a 78% resemblance to the statue, but he also has an 83% resemblance to Ravel Magi, a 56% resemblance to the market trader Ak’San, a 25% resemblance to the Cheshire Cat and, most disconcerting, a 98% resemblance to the Wizard Bechet who started this whole quest in the first place.
She felt like her world was about to collapse. Talbot looked like everyone else around here?
I think, if we ran the analysis again with anyone, we’d get the same results. I believe everyone in this world looks like each other.
So, Talbot looks almost exactly like the Wizard Bechet?
Yes, he confirmed, facially the faun appears to be a younger, chubbier version. It’s quite a disturbing idea, really.
She was stunned. Talbot looked like the wizard? Talbot? But, he was her friend, her companion. The more she thought about it the more she came to see it in his face. The main reason she hadn’t noticed it straight away was the fact that most of Talbot’s face was hidden behind a large bushy beard.
So, what are you saying? Do you think Talbot and Bechet are the same person?
No. Bechet was a human wizard, and Talbot is a faun. I’m just saying it’s a bit more evidence.
Evidence of what?
Well, that’s where the probl
em starts. It could mean that this is a story. If everyone looks like each other, then maybe it could be a story, and the writer has virtually no imagination.
Maybe it’s evidence that I’m mad and imagining all of this, and my imagination isn’t very good.
Alternatively, it could just be a coincidence, and this is real.
She paused for a minute.
You’re really going to suggest that it’s a coincidence that everyone looks like each other in this world? she asked.
Coincidences happen, said the spell, weakly. I mean, think about it. The chances of two unrelated people having the same facial features are very unlikely, however, they are possible. When we came to this world through the mirror do you remember me saying about multi-dimensions, where everything gets played out?
I remember you mentioning it.
Well, if this is part of a multi-dimensional reality, then maybe we should expect coincidences on this scale. If every possibility is played out, even those very small chances must happen somewhere. We could be in the world where they are happening. Do you understand?
Not really. It’s making my head spin. Why can’t I just decide what is going on?
You are trying to decide on the nature of reality; no one ever said that was easy.
She trudged on, unhappy. She couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening.
If she was mad, Talbot and Conscience didn’t exist. She was having a fever dream brought on by syphilis, but Dr. Bhat and Ravi would be real. Her life, in her own world, would be reality, but it would be at the expense of her friends.
If there was an author, Talbot was his play thing sent to help her. Dr. Bhat and Ravi would just be characters in a book. Conscience would not exist. She, herself, might not be real, since she didn’t know where the author started to write from. Her whole life could be a lie, created for someone’s amusement.
Finally, if there was no author, and she wasn’t mad, the whole thing would be real, but it had such massive coincidences that it made her head hurt. Talbot and Conscience would be alive. She would have to try explaining why there were all these references to books all around her. It would also mean that Dr. Bhat and Ravi were part of the torture she was suffering at the Dimn’s hands. Ravi would be a lie, but her friends would be real.
Ravens and Writing Desks: A Metaphysical Fantasy Page 24
