Harry Cavendish (19 page)

Proton suggested a snifter outside, to take their minds off the distressing day they had had, and Cormack readily agreed.

They sat on Dennis’ front step, breathing clouds of freezing water vapour into the chill night air, and raised a toast to their incapacitated host.

Then Proton said, ‘The cow is a problem, Cormack. You seem to have closed your mind to her, but she’s not mentioned anywhere in the prophecies and she’s close to fouling everything up.’

‘Leave the poor cow out of it, Proton.’

‘We’re so close, Cormack. Let us just get this thing done without any further complications…’

‘What is this thing that we’re to do? You never tell me anything.’

‘You never ask.’

‘Because if I did, you wouldn’t tell me.’

‘You know why I don’t tell you anything? Because you’re so full of frigging negativity. You don’t want anything to work out. I have to take all the decisions for you and hide everything from you because you’re so scared of what you are.’

‘I’m not the Negus, Proton.’

‘There you go again! Negativity! We are going to get through this thing, Cormack! Not Pranzi, not Bernard, not Dennis, not the frigging Emperor, not even you, yourself, are going to stop us! You and me, Cormack! From Day One, when I saw you literally dripping in shit outside the Prison Whale, from Day One, I believed in you! Don’t ever take that away from me, mate! Don’t ever forget that!’

Proton shuffled himself a little closer.

‘Look up there,’ he said. ‘Look at the stars, Cormack! Look at the blackness between them! When I was a little boy back on Zargon 8, I used to think about that blackness.’

‘You were ever a little boy, Proton?’

‘Yes. Yes, I was, Cormack. A frightened little boy. I used to think, that blackness, Cormack – it goes on forever. Forever. Just think about it. It used to scare me. I used to think it was impossible – it had to stop somewhere. There had to be a boundary - a wall where the Universe ended. But then I thought the wall would have to have a thickness. And the thickness would have to have an end to it. So the wall must have an end and there must be something behind that as well. And even if it was another wall, that would have an end too. So the thing goes on forever, mate! Even if there are walls! Think of it! There’s no end to it! And stars everywhere! The thing goes on forever and it’s full of stars everywhere…’

‘Gosh!’ said Cormack. He had never heard Proton wax so lyrical before.

‘So why the hell is it so black?’

‘Mmm…’

‘These are the things you could have asked Him, Cormack.’

‘Yes. I see what you’re saying.’

‘Things of mystery.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘Questions, Cormack. That need answering.’

‘I suppose.’

‘But you didn’t, did you?’

‘No.’

‘You were flummoxed.’

‘Yes.’

‘And a little rude.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You poxy good-for-nothing Negus.’

He gave Cormack a little thump to his arm to show he was only joking.

‘He was only there briefly. And I wasn’t really sure it was actually Him.’

‘He was pissed with you. You told me that once.’

‘Yes, He was.’

‘God frig us all…’ said Proton and they stared gloomily up at the sky together, with their heads in their hands and their elbows on their knees, in supplication to the darkness that submerged them like a threat.

When Traction arrived at the landing strip near Bartislard, dropped from a Cramptonian cruiser, he was not subjected to the usual touts as Cormack and the Guards had been because it was night and they had long since packed up and called it a day. Instead, there was a lone tuk-tuk, decorated with blue neon strips - a beacon for mosquitoes. Stanton Bosch took him onboard the Antibiotic and welcomed him to Foul Ball.

‘How is my friend the Governor?’

‘Slippery. He sends you this.’

Traction handed him a small kitbag that he stowed in the hold.

‘We has lots of work to do,’ said Stanton Bosch.

‘So I gather.’

‘Careful with that there rope. You almost tripped. And we don’t want that. Not on your first day…’

Traction was not at all dressed for Foul Ball. He had an idea it was tropical and had dressed down, settling on shorts and a t-shirt, as though he was on a retirement cruise, and was now regretting it. The weather had changed - there was an icy blast off the Leech that had him frozen and he sat in the back of the tuk-tuk rubbing hands that he could scarcely feel.

‘You’re name is Traction, right?’ said the Bosch, tugging at the lanyard and letting it fly back to the cowling.

‘It is.’

‘I feels you’re going to like Foul Ball, young Traction. We going to have ourselves so much fun together.’

Traction thought there must be a strange quality to the light on this odd planet for Stanton Bosch to have supposed him young, and wondered if the Bosch’s idea of fun could possibly bear any relation to his own. The man was dressed in yellow oilskins and slickers, his hair and pointy beard greased back, and he gripped and fought the tuk-tuk’s wheel as though he were navigating a great ocean current rather than the placid rhythms of a slow-moving river.

‘Me other agent is right in position,’ Stanton Bosch shouted to him. ‘Let the karp know that. She’s slithering with the mock Negus and the Captain of the Guard.’

‘OK.’

‘And you might not believes this, but the tracking device he gave me is acting as a phone link with the mock Negus heself. Want to try it?’

He reached into his oilskins and brought out a relay stick telephone, an exact copy of the one he had given Cormack.

‘Here,’ he said, giving it to Traction.

‘What am I suppose to do with it?’

‘Give him a call.’

Traction put the device to his ear. It was ringing.

Cormack answered almost immediately.

‘Hello,’ he said. He was in the hut with Proton preparing to go to bed and had stepped into the bathroom when he had felt the stick buzzing.

‘Hello,’ said Traction.

‘Stanton Bosch?’ said Cormack.

‘No, this is Traction.’

‘Traction?’

‘I think I have the wrong number.’

‘Yes, I think so too.’

‘Sorry to have bothered you.’

‘That’s quite all right.’

Cormack put the thing put in his pants and went to bed. Traction gave his back to Stanton Bosch.

‘Impressive, eh? We’ve got this thing in the bag. I is working them like puppets,’ said Stanton Bosch, and gave a maniacal cackle, throwing his head back into the wind and roaring to himself, till the spittle whipped by the wind from the River Leech hit the back of his throat, and the roar dropped, and then he began coughing and retching up over the wheel housing.

Proton was first up and put the kettle on.

‘You’re going to have to lead them off,’ he said to Cormack. ‘They’re going to expect the Negus to be at the head of the column.’

‘I’m not the Negus.’

‘No arguing, now. Lots to do today.’

‘Terrible news about the Emperor,’ said Bernard. ‘Dennis was telling me this morning.’

‘What news?’ said Proton with interest, and then Cormack stood up unexpectedly and poured coffee all over him.

‘What the…?’ said Proton, jumping up. The bodysuit was ruined. The coffee had gone right in the crotch and was steaming through the fabric. ‘I don’t even have a change right now.’

‘Looks like you’ve wet yourself,’ said Bernard helpfully.

‘Do you want me to go and stand outside, so that the villagers can assemble around me?’ said Cormack, hoping to change the subject.

‘Actually that’s not a bad idea,’ said Proton, forgetting at once about both the Emperor and the burn from the coffee in his excitement that the Negus at last seemed to be demonstrating leadership qualities.

‘They’ll want to assemble behind you though. Not around you. If they did that, it would be a bloody mess. You couldn’t lead them at all. You’d be right in amongst them and tripping over them…’

‘Quite so.’

Cormack found a spot at the head of the path that led out of Kabbal and down to Bartislard, and made sure that Proton was with him, as sensei, to marshal the new army into the serried ranks he thought were necessary. The cow was still in disgrace, but Cormack had wanted her close and was allowed to tie her to a tree nearby. She was having problems with the muzzle.

‘It’s very painful and I canst get at me straw,’ she said. ‘I’m so hungry.’

‘Don’t worry, cow,’ said Cormack. ‘I’ll feed you one stalk at a time.’

‘Ooo, you is so good to me.’

‘Somebody called me last night. On your stick telephone.’

‘Stanton Bosch, Cormack. He’s lookin’ after you.’

‘It wasn’t Stanton Bosch.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Totally different voice.’

‘Really?’

‘Can this thing get wrong numbers?’

The cow looked puzzled.

‘Don’t worry yourself, Cormack. Let me check it out. Look! Over there! Behind the gardenia! Such a big one!’

She had Cormack reached for the blade of grass and slot it through the muzzle, and she chewed at it delightedly even though it was tickling a nostril.

‘Big day today! Big day for everyone!’

Proton was swinging his arms and clapping them against the chill, trying to get everyone fired up.

‘They’re so bloody miserable,’ he said to Cormack in an aside. ‘If it wasn’t for the prophecies, I wouldn’t bother with them at all.’

‘Big day today!’ he went on and kept on clapping.

At last, they were ready.

Dennis had been feeling much better. The pain in his knee was now almost gone, and he would be able to walk towards the back of the column so he wouldn’t slow them down.

Bernard had decided to come with them as well. Proton was surprised he would abandon the Shamanic Throat, but Bernard said it was only to see them into Bartislard and the Throat would be glad of an eyewitness account when he eventually returned.

At last, Proton was satisfied that they had enough army to set off, and he gave Cormack the nod.

‘Shouldn’t I make a speech?’ said Cormack.

‘What do you want to say?’ said Proton.

‘That I’m not the Negus.’

‘Let’s leave out the speech,’ said Proton and he gently guided Cormack forward with an arm round his shoulder.

The path this time was good and wide, because it was well used, and they walked at quite a pace. In fact, it seemed as though Proton was intent on leaving the army behind.

‘How long to Bartislard?’ he asked Bernard, who was only keeping up with some difficulty.

‘It’s just half a day’s march. A quarter of a day at this rate.’

‘It’s a lovely wide path,’ said Cormack. ‘Strange that we had to go through all that trouble with the volcano when there are such lovely wide paths all over Foul Ball.’

‘Now, don’t be getting upset with the Captain,’ said Bernard. ‘You can’t just get to Shambalah from Kabbal like that, you know. Well, you can, but Dennis would have stopped you. And you would not have qualified for the Ordeals. The Texts specifically stipulate entrance to Shambalah via the volcano.’

‘Thank goodness for the Texts stipulating everything.’

They stopped for elevenses at a bend in a path. They had brought a canteen with them that was filled with milk from the cow, reluctantly squeezed from her by a vengeful Bernard before they had set off, and they snacked on blackberries that they had picked from the brambles as they walked.

Logistics were on Proton’s mind. He had a small map of Bartislard that he had pilfered from the Tropico, and he sat down with a pencil, drawing arrows on it everywhere.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Cormack.

‘This is going to be crucial, Cormack,’ he said. ‘The Negus’ entrance to Bartislard – an historic event with you at its centre. How this plays off is critical to our eventual success.’

‘Do you want me to ride on a donkey?’

‘A what? No riding on anything, Cormack. Are you thinking of the cow? Keep your mind off the cow, now. She’s perfectly safe.’

She was, in fact, on a cart, not far off the main pace, sucking at a huge handful of straw that had been shoved through her muzzle to keep her quiet, quite content for now.

‘No, this thing is going to be momentous, mate. They’re going to be talking about this for centuries, millennia to come. I need a red crayon.’

Proton found one in a pocket and started drawing a series of vivid red arrows out from the centre of the map, like spokes radiating from a wheel hub, seemingly in opposition to the pale pencil shadings Cormack had supposed represented the main column of his army.

‘Is the march on Bartislard purely ceremonial, Proton, or are you expecting resistance?’ he said.

‘Resistance to what? No, no, no. Not at all. But we must plan for all eventualities.’

Stanton Bosch was planning for all eventualities too. He was holed up in what might have been a garret, if the A-frames in Bartislard had such a thing, in a rather insalubrious part of town, with Traction, the old butler. They had the kitbag that Traction had brought from the Opikarp opened on the floor.

‘There ain’t enough in here to resist a Girl Guide platoon, never mind a legendary army fired with religion.

What kind of a fishy fellow is this Opikarp?’

‘Well, he’s confined to a tank so I think it was hard for him to procure the necessary armaments on the sly and there was the question of a baggage allowance.’

‘Still, we must makes do. We must makes do. Me and the other Boschs would be a handful for anyone, even if we was armed with rubber bands.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Traction.

‘Where’s the funds? Where’s the dosh?’

‘You know, he’s had a spot of bother with the authorities in connection with the Emperor’s assassination.

I don’t think he has the access to the resources he once had.’

‘He’s leaving me in the lurch. That was always his way. Hark at me, young man. Never trust a fish.

Especially if you is a fisherman.’

‘Probably good advice.’

‘Still, we’lls make do. We wills make do.’