Dragonsight (28 page)

When they finished eating, they left the establishment, intending to look for somewhere to sleep. The proprietor told them to keep their eyes peeled for a hotel. The image of peeled eyes was horrific but it was said in an offhand manner that made them think the suggestion was purely metaphoric. Possibly it indicated a grim and cruel history, now long behind them.

After nearly being run over by a large two-tiered vehicle with ‘Covent Garden’ written on a faceplate, they found a hotel and trouble.

They entered a large square, full of fountains and pigeons and strolling couples. On the far side was a sign. In large glowing letters it said, Ritz Hotel. They struck out for it. Halfway across the square, which was dark in this spot, two men stepped out from bushes. One of them had a metallic device in his hand and was pointing it at them. His manner made it clear it was a weapon.

‘Hand it over. Everything you got!’ he snarled.

Daretor smiled. ‘I think I’m beginning to get it,’ he said. ‘He means he wants to
take
all our money.’

The two men looked at each other. ‘You’re winding me up.’ He stepped forward menacingly. ‘What are you?’

‘I’m a warrior,’ Daretor said, stating the obvious. ‘Do you wish to fight?’

‘No, pal, I wanna swap recipes.’

‘Really? Do you know the recipe for tomato sauce?’ Jelindel asked.

One of the men said to the other, ‘They’re friggin’ retards.’

The one with the gun cocked it, pointing it at Daretor. ‘Give me all your money, retard, or I’m gonna blow your friggin’ brains all over the park.
Comprende, retardo
?’

His finger tightened on the trigger. Daretor whipped out his sword. Jelindel spoke a word of magic. Blue light leapt to the gun. The bullet rolled out of the barrel and dropped to the ground. Then the weapon turned red hot.

The mugger holding the gun screamed. He dropped it, and clutched his burnt hand, staring at Jelindel accusingly. He staggered backwards and fell over a bush. The pair had seen enough. The fallen mugger scrambled to his feet and both men ran for the trees.

‘Nothing really changes,’ said Jelindel. ‘There are those who give and those who take.’

‘Except here, the givers take and the takers give,’ said Daretor. He picked up the bullet. ‘I fail to see how he thought this was going to hurt us. It’s not even pointed. In fact, it’s blunt.’ He tossed it over his shoulder.

‘Well, let’s get some rest.’

‘Can I help you, ma’am? Is this man bothering you?’

They turned to see a man in uniform. When he saw Daretor holding the sword, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at them.

‘Don’t move,’ he said. He spoke into a device attached to his shoulder. An invisible man’s voice answered. A moment later two more uniformed men joined him, also pointing guns. They wore badges on their tunics and soft peaked caps. Daretor couldn’t imagine those things protecting their heads from a thrown rock, much less an arrow or a sword strike.

‘Use your magic again,’ Daretor urged.

‘I think these are like watchmen and guards. See the uniforms?’

‘Put down your weapon. Do it now. Then make like an aeroplane!’ one of the men demanded.

Jelindel told Daretor to comply. He lay down his sword.

‘What’s an aeroplane?’ he asked.

He didn’t have time to find out. The three men tackled him to the ground. They twisted his arms behind his back, knelt on him, then shackled his wrists together.

‘Jelli,’ Daretor shouted.

‘We need somewhere to stay the night and I think these people will accommodate us. Excuse the pun,’ she said, crossing her hands behind her back. She whispered a quick cloaking spell, hiding her valuables. It was too late to do anything about Daretor’s sword. One of their captors was picking it up gingerly, as though he had never seen the like before.

One of the men shackled her wrists. She relaxed. She did not feel that the men intended to harm them; they were simply being neutralised. It seemed that life in this city was more precarious than they had imagined.

One of their captors then found the gun lying on the grass.

‘Is this yours?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Daretor. ‘A man pointed it at us and told us to give him all our money.’

‘I didn’t see anyone,’ the constable said, squinting into the darkness.

‘He ran away.’ Jelindel pointed to a copse of trees. ‘He pointed a loaded gun at you, then he dropped it, and ran away? Is that your story?’

‘That’s what happened, yes.’ Jelindel wondered whether she was missing something.

‘Are you a retard?’

‘The man with the “gun” thought so,’ Daretor confessed.

The policeman stared at him. ‘You think a judge is gonna buy that story? Take some advice. Get yourself a real good lawyer. You’re gonna need one.’

‘You’re apprehending us?’ Jelindel asked.

‘No, ma’am, I’m inviting you to a party down at the station.’

‘A party of what?’

‘Shut up and listen. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to a lawyer …’

An hour later they were in a strange building getting their fingers pressed onto an ink pad. The inky tips were then pressed onto a strip of white parchment. Then they were made to stand against a wall and someone took their photograph. Daretor smiled for his. This was the one part of the process where he knew what was expected of him.

‘What are you, some kind of clown? Zip the lips!’ drawled the photographer.

Daretor was placed in a holding cell in the basement of the building. He was with a dozen others. Jelindel was on the next floor up. Apparently they would go before a judge in the morning and have an arraignment, whatever that was. In the meantime, the cell was noisy and full of mostly aggressive and moody people that reminded Daretor of the alley denizens in D’loom.

He was still confused but tried to make light of it. ‘We needed somewhere to stay for the night anyway,’ he told a derelict who was fingering his leather tunic.

Finding a corner, Daretor settled down to rest. Before he could fully succumb to sleep he was viciously kicked wide awake.

Two large inmates stood over him. ‘What do we have here then? A right freak show. Smells freakish, too,’ said one of them. ‘Take your top off. I’m cold.’

Daretor started to get up but the man kicked his arm out from under him. Falling to one side, Daretor rolled away from the man’s boot. The inmate’s foot slammed into the wall. He yelped, but his exclamation was cut short when Daretor leg-swept him.

His companion swore and rushed Daretor, who promptly bent into the man, then fell backwards, using the man’s impetus to throw him into the cell door. The inmate slammed to the ground and lay still.

A cheer went up from the others in the cell. After that Daretor was left alone until morning, when he was taken out for his arraignment. Jelindel was already in the courtroom.

He was about to join her when two policemen stopped him. ‘Isn’t it time we left?’ Daretor called.

Jelindel stood up. ‘How was your room?’

‘A little crowded, and filled with vermin,’ Daretor said. ‘I’ve an itch, and it’s not just to get out of here.’

‘All part of life’s rich tapestry,’ Jelindel said. ‘I learnt a lot of slang and –’

There was a loud bang. Turning, Daretor saw a man in a ridiculous white wig, glaring down at him from a high bench.

‘You’ll excuse me for interrupting you,’ the man said, ‘but it is MY COURTROOM AND I’LL HAVE SILENCE!’

Jelindel said, ‘I think that’s the judge.’

‘What does he judge?’ Daretor asked.

‘Us, I think.’

The gavel pounded the bench again. ‘You will address the court, or I will have you removed from this courtroom. Do you understand me?’

Jelindel frowned, unravelling the man’s speech. ‘We don’t really. You see, we’re not from around here. I think you’re right, Daretor. It’s time we left.’ She addressed the bench. ‘My companion here and I would both like to thank you for your hospitality and for breakfast. It was our first time in a hotel.’

Jelindel took a step towards Daretor. A policewoman tried to restrain her. Jelindel murmured the freezing spell she had used on Madame Mooska, and the officer froze in mid action.

‘Watch out,’ someone screamed, ‘she’s armed.’

Jelindel crossed to Daretor while everybody in the courtroom scurried for cover.

‘We’re going now,’ Jelindel said. She inscribed a character in the air and spoke two words.

‘You wait right –’ the judge roared. Then he, like everybody else, froze. Jelindel and Daretor left by the front door. A few moments later, life came back into the courtroom.

‘… there until I –’ The judge gulped and closed his mouth. The prisoners had vanished. People began screaming. Officers rushed into the corridor, guns drawn.

The judge sat back and wiped his brow. To no one in particular, and in a voice barely audible, he said, ‘I think I’ll take the rest of the day off.’

Jelindel and Daretor wandered about the city.

By mid-afternoon they happened on the square where they had been arrested. From there they found the cobblestone alleyway. Judging by the sun, they had at least two hours before Hakat’s machine could transfer them out.

Till then, they decided to remain close to the point of transfer and keep out of trouble. Daretor had lost his sword, which had, Jelindel surmised, been the cause of their arrest. Weapons in public were strictly taboo. Unless you were a ‘mugger’ or the ‘bill’. It was just as well the Preceptor had not thought of such a concept. Imagine only his army being armed! Everyone on Q’zar would have been at his complete mercy.

Their clothing still drew attention wherever they went. Even sitting at an outdoor café caused a minor commotion. Jelindel could not tell if people were simply curious or if they were afraid. To put them at ease she made a point of smiling whenever people looked her way. Some, from sheer reflex perhaps, smiled back sheepishly. Others retaliated by either glaring, or promptly looking away.

This paraworld was without a doubt a wondrous place of cold science, but there was something missing. For a long time Jelindel could not put her finger on it and then it sprang to mind. There was little connection between people. Strangers rarely spoke and everyone seemed in a hurry. They even ate quickly. When they conversed it was in short, sharp sentences.

Daretor nudged her, breaking her reverie. ‘We’re being watched.’

The woman was old, and dressed in a dowdy manner. Her hair was unkempt and she carried many shiny, crumpled bags. When she noticed their eyes on her, her own eyes lit up. She approached their table by leaning on her trolley and tottering forward.

‘You’re from Q’zar,’ she accused. She spoke in the halting street dialect heard on the streets of D’loom.

Jelindel stood up and answered in the same tongue. ‘We are.’

The woman swayed and would have fallen had Daretor not helped her to a seat. She looked emaciated. They ordered food and drink that she ate with her fingers the moment it arrived.

The waiter blanched. When Daretor narrowed his eyes he stepped back from the table and retreated. Through the windows, Daretor saw him conversing with an officious looking man in a white tunic. For some unfathomable reason, the man also wore a girl’s black ribbon tied in a bow around his neck. Daretor wondered about its significance.

‘How did you travel here?’ Jelindel asked. She also wondered why the woman was in such poor condition.

‘My name is Melyar,’ she said. ‘I was a neophyte in the Temple of Verity in Hamaria, though I was born in D’loom. In the first few weeks of my training a novice dared me to show her my strongest spell.’

Bemused, Jelindel thought back to her first meeting with Onala, when she too had been a neophyte.

‘Well, I was a fool, wasn’t I?’ the woman continued. ‘And all of fourteen. What did I know? I stole into the library that night, opened one of the forbidden books and learnt a spell for paraworld travel. I thought I would make the journey and bring something back to boast about. What a terrible mistake that was. And I’ve paid dearly for it.’

‘How long have you been here?’ Daretor asked.

‘Forty years, give or take. You see, the spell was just for travel one way. Like a fool I kept using it, popping from one paraworld to another, hoping to get back. Eventually I arrived here but not till I’d gone to a daemon-ridden paraworld that scared me so much I never dared use the spell again.’

Jelindel eyed her rags. ‘You have indeed fallen on hard times.’

‘That I have,’ said Melyar. ‘I was locked up for years in a place for crazy people. Then I stopped trying to tell them the truth and told them what they wanted to hear. Finally, they let me go. This is a hard paraworld, even though it looks so bright and prosperous. It isn’t prosperous for everyone, and I don’t like the cold science that permeates every aspect of their lives. I don’t trust it in my heart. Then I saw you sitting here, as plain as day, dressed in the garb of Q’zar. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t dare to believe it. At first, I thought I really
had
gone crazy and that I should end up back in that horrid place where they tie you to beds and force you to swallow potions they call pills.’ She blinked back tears. ‘It’s so lovely to hear the old words again …’

Jelindel took her gnarled hands in hers. ‘Do you wish to go back to Q’zar?’

Melyar’s eyes opened wider than before. For a moment she was too choked to speak. She nodded vigorously, as if not trusting her voice. ‘Can I come with you?’ she said finally.

Jelindel shook her head. ‘We are on a mission that could well prove fatal. I wouldn’t take you into danger. But I will attempt to send you back.’

Awe came to Melyar’s face. ‘You can really do that?’

‘She is the Archmage Jelindel dek Mediesar,’ said Daretor.

Jelindel registered Daretor’s doubt. ‘I can try to send Melyar back to Q’zar, but not us through deep rock.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s hard to explain. Trust me.’ To Melyar she said, ‘I cannot return you to any particular place on Q’zar. You might land in the Passendof Mountains.’

‘Anywhere on Q’zar would have to be an improvement on this paraworld,’ Melyar said fervently.

It was nearly time for their own transfer. They led Melyar to the cobblestone alleyway and gave her most of their coins, as well as a message for Zimak and the others, if ever she found them. ‘In all probability, this laneway is a gateway to many paraworlds. Since we arrived at this exact spot from Q’zar, you could well return to our departure spot,’ Jelindel reasoned.