Fair Wind to Widdershins (9 page)

“That should give us some time before he’s found,” Esmeralda said, stamping the cobblestone down again.

They made their way back across the courtyard and through an arched doorway into a wide oak-paneled vestibule, hung with the ancient banners of the guilds. A huge notice board displayed the names of every department and division and doctorate and seminary, set alongside a marquetry map of where everything could be found.

“Doctor Augustus Brockwise,” Esmeralda read. “Tower of the Brazen Finials, fifth floor, room 1720.”

Jack perused the map. “Got it!” he said, pointing. “We’re in luck.
This
is the Tower of the Brazen
Wotsits
, and by the looks of it, the quickest way to Brockwise’s lair is up those stairs over there.” He pointed over to an elaborate staircase at the far end of the vestibule.

“Excellent,” said Esmeralda. “And remember, we’re just three ordinary workers going about our everyday business, so try to look like we belong here.”

They encountered any number of magisterial badgers and scuttling minions on the way, but no one took any notice of them, and they eventually found themselves outside a large and magnificent oak door. A brass plaque confirmed they had reached their target.

OFFICE OF THE HIGHMOST
CHANCELLOR, PLENIPOTENTIARY,
BAGERIUS MAXIMUS BONCIUS,
DOCTOR AUGUSTUS BROCKWISE

And below, a smaller notice was pinned to the panels:

Do Not Disturb

Esmeralda stepped up to the door and rapped sharply on it.

They waited for a reply.

“Maybe he’s gone out?” suggested Trundle.

Esmeralda knocked again and turned the large brass handle. The door opened with a long-drawn creak of protest.

“Hello?” she called, poking her head around the door. “Anyone—oh!” She pushed the door wider, revealing to Trundle’s and Jack’s eyes a room as long and as lofty as a cathedral. A purple carpet ran the length of the floor, and at the far end—about three hundred feet away—they could just make out a big, dark desk in front of a tall black chair in which someone was seated.

Even more remarkable to the friends than the size of the room were the extraordinary apparatuses and machines and devices and contraptions that lined the walls. They walked along the carpet in subdued awe, the brass and copper and steel and glass mechanisms towering above them; some with swinging pendulums, other with flickering dials or with whirring flywheels and ticking cogs and revolving escapements like the workings of great watches or clocks.

As they approached the desk, they became aware of a new sound—a grumbling, grating noise like distant thunder mixed up with someone sawing wood.

“He’s asleep!” exclaimed Jack.

He was right. Slumped backward in the big black leather chair behind the desk, a portly badger snored away with his face hidden beneath a red silk handkerchief. The handkerchief fluttered and flopped with his breathing.

Apart from a blotter and an inkwell and a pen in its stand, the huge polished desk was entirely clear.

The three friends walked around the desk and stared at the slumbering Highmost Chancellor. He was wrapped in black robes, and there were carpet slippers on his feet, with red pom-poms on the toes.

“What should we do?” whispered Trundle, remembering the sign on the door and not wishing to ignore its instructions.

“Disturb him!” declared Esmeralda. She tugged at the badger’s sleeve. “Hey! Excuse me!” she shouted into his hairy ear. “Wake up, please.”

The badger spluttered and puffed as Esmeralda pulled off the handkerchief, revealing a wrinkled old face topped off with a pair of gold rimmed pince-nez spectacles, set slightly awry on the grizzled muzzle.

“Upon my word!” gasped the Highmost Chancellor, struggling to sit up and free his arms from the windings of his robes. “What effrontery is this?” He straightened his pince-nez and peered down at the three friends with a gimlet eye and a wrathful brow.

“Hello there,” Jack said, beaming at the elderly chancellor. “Sorry we woke you up, and all.”

The badger stared at them. “How dare you disturb me!” he blustered. “What effrontery! What unparalleled temerity! What unprecedented audacity—to accost your chancellor in this manner!”

“Calm down,” said Esmeralda. “We only want to talk to you.”

“It’s worth it, honestly it is,” added Trundle in a placatory voice. “We’ve got some things to show you.”

“Recognize these?” Esmeralda asked, brandishing the crown and the key under the Highmost Chancellor’s nose.

“Remove those gewgaws from my sight!” demanded the Highmost Chancellor. “Leave this room at once or I shall summon the guards!”

“Keep your wig on,” said Esmeralda. “Don’t you know what this is?” She flaunted the crown in front of his eyes. “It’s the Crystal Crown of the Badger Lords of Old, that’s what it is!”

The badger goggled at the glittering crown for a moment or two. “Preposterous!” he said. “Ridiculous!” he added. “Outrageous and ludicrous!” he concluded.

“But it is,” said Jack. “Honestly, it is.”

“You insensate and absurd creatures,” boomed the old badger. “It’s a scientifically proven fact that the Six Crowns of the Badger Lords do not exist!” He reached for a bell pull and gave it a series of fierce tugs. “I have summoned the guards,” he told them. “Leave my office this instant, or I will have you forcibly removed!”

“But it’s the Crystal Crown!” raged Esmeralda, almost dancing with frustration. “We found it in the mines of Drune! And this key was with it.”

“It’s true,” said Trundle. “The magical Badger Blocks led us to it.”

“Magic!” hooted the Highmost Chancellor, rising from his chair, his eyes flashing angrily. “You are Roamany scoundrels and magicians!” He groped by his chair and brought out a black lacquered walking cane. “I’ll harbor no conjurers and sorcerers here!” he roared, swiping at them with the cane. “Be gone, I say!”

Trundle and Esmeralda and Jack hopped backward around the desk to avoid the lashing cane. The badger followed them, and they retreated down the long carpet with him lumbering in hot and furious pursuit, his cane rising and falling, his face red with wrath and his black robes billowing.

“You silly old fool!” yelled Esmeralda. “Stop that for a second and let us explain!”

“I don’t think he’s going to listen,” said Jack, ducking as a particularly close swipe whistled above his ears.

“Outrageous!” bellowed the Highmost Chancellor, chasing them with surprising speed as they raced for the door. “Roamanys in my office! Monstrous, I say! Disgraceful! Scandalous!”

They came tumbling out into the corridor with the enraged old badger hot on their heels. But his wind was all but used up by now; he leaned heavily on the door frame, swiping feebly at them, gasping and panting and mopping his face with the handkerchief.

“Are you quite done trying to bash us?” said Esmeralda, glaring up at him. “Because if you are, I’d like to get a few words in edgewise!”

The rumble of many running feet sounded from around a bend in the corridor.

“The guards!” gasped Jack.

“We have to go!” said Trundle, grabbing Esmeralda’s arm.

“I’ll be back!” she shouted at the Highmost Chancellor as Jack and Trundle dragged her away. “Don’t you worry—I’m not done with you yet!”

At a junction in the corridor, they risked a quick look back. A posse of six or seven uniformed foxes was thundering toward them, all of them wielding halberds.

“Lawks!” said Jack. “We need to hide before that lot gets us!”

“Hide where?” groaned Trundle.

“In here!” said an unfamiliar voice at their backs. Around the corner and out of sight of the approaching guards, a door was being held open for them. “Quickly, quickly,” said the urgent but friendly voice. “Get under cover before they spot you.”

Without further ado, the three friends bundled in through the open doorway, to find themselves in a large office lined with heavy wooden shelves packed solid with scrolls and tomes and documents and folders. The door snapped shut behind them.

A hedgehog in sky blue robes put his finger to his lips. “Shhh!” he said, turning a key in the lock. He pressed his ear against the door, smiling as he listened to the percussion of passing feet.

“There,” he said, dusting his paws together. “I never did like those guards, noisy, brutal, dim-witted creatures that they are.” He smiled genially at the three friends. “Now then,” he continued. “Allow me to introduce myself, my young friends. I am the Herald Pursuivant, Keeper of Scrolls, and Personal Secretary to His Nibs the Highmost Chancellor of the Worshipful Guild of Observators.” His smile widened. “But you can call me Percy. Now then, might you tell me who
you
are and what those things are that you’re carrying, and why you are being pursued through these hallowed corridors by armed guards?”

“I’m Esmeralda Lightfoot,” said Esmeralda. “And this is Trundle and this is Jack, and this”—she held up the crown—“is the Crystal Crown of the Badger Lords of Old, whether you believe me or not!”

“Why should I not believe you?” Percy asked mildly.

“Well, your boss didn’t,” said Jack.

“He ordered us out of his office and set the guards on us!” added Trundle.

“Ah, well, His Nibs is not at his best if his mid-morning nap is interrupted,” said Percy. “But even at the best of times, some of us are more open-minded than others. May I?” He lifted the crown from Esmeralda’s hands and turned it slowly so that its crystals glittered and sparked. “What a lovely thing!” he said. “And where did you find it?”

“In Drune,” said Esmeralda. “And this key was with it.”

“We came here because one of the seals on the handle is the coat of arms of the ancient kings of Widdershins,” said Trundle. “I don’t suppose you’d know what the other one is?”

“We think it’s a clue for finding the next crown,” said Jack. “So it would be handy if you recognized it.”

Percy handed the crown back to Esmeralda and took the key. He stepped over to the window and peered carefully at it in the light.

“Yes, that’s definitely the escutcheon of the ancient kings,” he said. “But I don’t have the least idea what the other seal is.”

“You mean we’ve come all this way for nothing?” groaned Esmeralda.

“Not at all,” said Percy with a smile. “Just because I don’t recognize the seal doesn’t mean we won’t be able to find out what it is.”

“You can do that for us?” asked Trundle. “Really and truly?”

“I believe I can,” said Percy. He handed the key back to Esmeralda. “Keep it safe,” he told her. “We must go to the upper ancillary library annex—I think the book we need will be there. Come along with me.”

He led them out of the office via a back door and along narrow corridors lined with yet more bulging shelves.

“Excuse me for asking,” Trundle ventured as they walked along, “but what exactly is it that you people do here? What are observators?”

“We’re scientists,” said Percy. “We measure and check and annotate, we calculate and cipher and compute, we evaluate and determine and prognosticate, we value and weigh and consider every tiny aspect of the Sundered Lands. It’s our privilege and our bounden duty to create a scientific basis for everything that has ever happened in this world, and everything that is happening right now, and everything that will ever happen.” He smiled. “It’s quite a task, I can tell you!”

“I would imagine so,” said Trundle. “Forgive me for asking … but
why
do you do all those things?”

“To accumulate knowledge, my lad,” said Percy with a hint of pride in his voice. “It’s a never-ending task, you know. For instance, the Directorate of Spatial Interluditudes has the task of measuring the distances between every single island in the whole of the Sundered Lands.”

“Lawks!” said Jack.

“Lawks indeed, my fine fellow,” agreed Percy. “The problem is that the islands are constantly moving about by tiny amounts, so no sooner is the chart complete than they have to start all over again.”

“Phew!” Esmeralda blew out her cheeks. “What a total waste of time.”

“The search for knowledge is never a waste of time!” said Percy. “Ah! Here we are. Almost there!”