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Fifteen

The two night-shift guards at the portcullis pinned themselves to the wall. Two very large white horses with manes and tails flowing, and one rider with cloak and pointed hat similarly disposed, sped by. There was a compressed peel of thunder as eight powerful hooves pounded across the wooden drawbridge.
      "Blimey! 'is Nibs is in an' 'urry, ain't he?"
      "Orf to save the world from another bombin' ball disaster, I s'pose."
      Excru sped down The Causeway towards Gibson City. He rode Sono Skyrunner Supreme while Sono Bianca Silkiness IVth charged along beside. "The stupid boy will be with that damned half-Elf," he cursed. He took The Ringpath around to the east side of the city and slowed the horses to pass through Eastgate. Several minutes later, the horses and rider emerged onto the eastern side of Creator's Square. The round sign showing a black horse with a diagonal red line through it was ignored. Local folk cast disapproving glares at the someone ignoring the 'no horses' instruction; until they realised who it was on the larger one. Then they attempted to appear super-agreeable. Excru saw Zolin with Lesley and dismounted; they had not seen him.

Zolin imagined the Oyez! At Ten performance to consist of an obese burgher in an ostentatious costume ringing a bell, crying Oyez! Oyez! and bellowing out the news in shouts that no-one stood a chance of understanding. But instead, the initial activity involved a small band setting up their music stands and instruments on the raised dais in the centre of the square. Eventually, when all was ready, they started to play. It was not a long tune, just a short and quite dramatical musical introduction.
      Dum tiddy dummmm, dum tiddy dummmm, dum tiddy tiddy, dum dum DUMMMM!!
      A smart and handsome man stepped up onto the dais clutching in one hand his notes and in the other a megaphone. He was dressed more like a wealthy merchant than the rolly-polly town crier that Zolin had last seen in his hometown of Herringhaven. The crowd hushed. Through the megaphone a deep velvety voice announced: "Good evening. I'm Peter Cisterns and here are the Oyez! At Ten headlines: powerful wizard saves the world and works wonders on our queen; the unrest in Dragonthrup Northwest mines grows and boosts prices on the City gem market; and King Maharad Ahk Gibson announces new plans for the castle. Now the Oyez! in depth ..."
      "Good, isn't he?" whispered Lesley. "And did you like the musical introduction? That was my idea."
      "Terrific!"
      As the pair watched and listened intently to the news stories, Excru threaded his way through the packed crowd and approached them from behind. Lesley was too preoccupied with listening to her own work of prose to notice Excru's arrival.
      The wizard tapped Zolin gently on the shoulder and put a finger to his lips to indicate the youth should remain silent. "Come, Zolin; we have important deeds to do," he whispered.
      "Oh, do I have to?" replied the lad from the corner of his mouth.
      "Yes, I need your help. Terrible evil is afoot. Alone, I may not survive."
      "Can't we stay 'til the end of the Oyez!?"
      "No! Every minute we delay, the danger doubles."
      Then Zolin saw, pushing their way through the crowd towards him, the grinning Benton and Dolores.
      "Er ... Well, if it's that important, then let's go." Zolin slid gently sideways from his seat, glad that Lesley was not on a hand-touching spree at that moment.
      Excru and he then sprinted off around the square to the horses.
      "Can you handle a powerful horse, Zolin?"
      "Never tried."
      "Now's a good time."
      The CCN crier was concluding his part of the Oyez! At Ten with the now-customary '... and finally,' piece of lightweight news; another of Lesley's ideas.
      "... and finally, if you see a young man in a striped cloak and pointed hat around the city, you'd better be civil to him. For he is Zolin The Striped, the new assistant to Excru, our eminent man of magic. In an interview last night with our researcher Lesley Fik Goldsmith, Wizard Excru said: 'Young Zolin is the most powerful and capable novice wizard that I have ever had the pleasure of training. He will become a most important member of The Council Of Wizards and eventually even more powerful than me. And that's saying something!' And this is me, Peter Cisterns, saying ... that's all from the Oyez! At Ten from CCN in Gibson City. Have a safe night. I'll be with you at eight o'clock tomorrow morning for the Breakfast Oyez! Gods save the king! Now over to Anna for tomorrow's weather." As the city crier stepped down from the dais several young women clustered around him for his autograph.
      Anna Froid took up the megaphone to read the weather forecast. "Thank you Peter. And here is the weather forecast for Dragonthrup Southeast and Gibson City, sponsored by the Brotherhood Of Weather Seers ..."
      "See, I told you he was goo... " Lesley turned to the space where Zolin should have been. " ...d, oh!"

The balmy air whistled through their harnesses as the two powerful horses sped through the night.
      "Where are we going?!" shouted Zolin over the thunder of pounding hooves.
      "The Scarp!"
      "Why?!"
      "You'll see!"

Mother Marilyn hid in the dark arched gateway to the garden to watch the attempted magic proceedings. She sighed, leaned against the cool stone and nonchalantly examined her long black fingernails. "Silly girls. It'll never work."
      "Come on, it's obviously not going to work," observed Sister Racquel.
      "Give it a minute or two," replied Sister George. She held up her arms so that they formed a 'Y' shape with her body and repeated her saucy home-spun incantation with even greater vigour. Once again, little magic whirlwinds played around the garden, sending the pond into spasms with little waterspouts. But this time, the air high above the nuns started to glitter. Little photons of magic energy appeared as pin-pricks of brilliant white light and exploded into miniature supernovas. A shimmering cascade of magic shooting stars drifted down over the garden. They reflected in the wonder-wide eyes of the Sisters ... and in the even wider ones of Mother Marilyn.

"It's great, isn't it? I can see the little bulbs flashing still," said Ajax.
      "Where? You can't do; it's all been switched off," replied Robert Platt.
      "I can see 'em, too," confirmed Mad Dog Mackintosh.
      "Then somebody must be messing around with the controls," observed Rob and turned towards the centre of the stadium to see if anyone was at the control desk. It was dark and unattended.
      "Look; there's little flashes ... and I can see ... it looks like images of people in The Eye, like when they do the back-projection thing." Ajax bent to scratch his irritating knee scar.
      "He's right enough, Rabby!"
      "Blimey! I can see them now. Looks like ... some monks in cloaks or something." He stepped closer to the hard Perspex lens of The Eye, and in so doing, tripped on a thick power cable.
      Ajax made an instinctive lunge forward to save him from falling. Brian Mackintosh, still affected by considerable quantities of chemicals including, but not exclusively, alcohol, staggered forward to save Ajax from falling. Ajax grabbed the singer to stop him hurting himself against the hard surface, but he was already at too acute an angle with the stage to be stopped. Ajax toppled forward, too. The drummer managed to grasp Ajax's shirt but was also caught off balance. The three-man chain plunged headlong into the lens surface of The Eye. Far from being the thick resilient material that it was supposed to be, it gave way under their combined weight like an under-inflated balloon. They continued to fall forward, in slow motion, their heads and bodies squeezing into the yielding material. There was a quiet squeezing-into-yielding-material sound. Then silence. The Eye re-formed into its convex shape. Ajax Gilmour, Robert Platt and Brian Mad Dog Mackintosh were nowhere to be seen, neither in front of the lens of The Eye nor behind it. The zenith of the Minor Alignment was rapidly approaching and the interdimensiversal membranes were becoming more there. Or there more.

'You wanted to see me?' thought Excru. Zolin watched silently.
      'Hmmm,' replied Skimblezipper in slowly considered mental communication. 'Who's the new novice, Excru?'
      The wizard cast a glance at Zolin; would he be hearing this? The quizzical expression on the lad's face suggested that he was not. 'My new novice, Zolin The Striped. He's to be trusted, Skimblezipper; he'll be a very good wizard one day.'
      'Oh, very well.' The dragon spoke slowly and with a kind of condescending whine to his thought-voice. 'What do you know of ... Alignments, Mister Wizard?'
      'A bit: there are Minor ones and Major ones, and when they happen, all sorts of strange things occur.' He did not intend to give away too much of what he did and didn't know to the dragon.
      'Huh, huh.' The nasal chuckle revealed a lack of belief on the part of the magic beast. 'Very well, Excru. A Minor Alignment is approaching. The universes are already trying to sort out a few misbirths and unauthorised slippings-through. You know what I mean by that, don't you? Anyway, I happen to know that they're fighting a losing battle, old chum. Any time now things will likely go quite mad; people slipping back and forth. I'm afraid the universal whatever-they-ares are too busy arguing amongst themselves to handle the matter properly ... you know what they are like.'
      'So how does that affect us, Skimblezipper?' thought Zolin.
      'How, young man? Someone has to do something to protect this world or else ... poof!' The dragon pointed his nose upwards and let out a lick of searing flame.
      'Poof?' thought Zolin.
      'Yes, poof,' joined in Excru. He was amazed that he and his novice were now, too, communicating by thought. 'If the I.Q. becomes too unbalanced: as the dragon says: poof!'
      'Like a disastrous poof, you mean?'
      'Precisely. Poof and the world turns dark red, then orange, then bright yellow as the temperature rises uncontrollably ...'
      '... or one of the really bad things could happen,' interjected Skimblezipper.
      'Really bad?' thought Zolin.
      'Of course; an entire universe can implode, squeezing all matter in it to the size of a pebble. Or two dimensiverses can merge creating a new out-of-phase dual place and time in which everything is fuzzy and unreal for a few million years. Or three can do the same thing. Or ...'
      'I've got the picture! All that can happen just because a few people slip from one dimensiverse to another?'
      'Not just. There are the natural laws. The dimensiverses must remain relatively well balanced. It's the Rules,' pointed out Excru.
      Skimblezipper smiled a dragonly smile - the sort of smile you don't see, but you feel - and uttered a quiet self-satisfied whine. 'Hmmm. You said you didn't know much about it, Excru? It seems like you know everything about it. Anyway, I thought it prudent that we meet; we have several, if not many, membranes around this Thrup. The one in the castle bedchamber: you know of that one, of course?'
      'How do you know I know?'
      'Hmmm ... just do. But there are others; like on Inoc Island, for example. I think that a major catastrophe could be started from there. There's strange magic on that island and the nuns are messing about with spells themselves. And you know how magic can weaken the membranes in such delicate times, don't you, Excru? There may a considerable unbalancing of the I.Q. in that place, too. Bodies are slipping through, and I can feel something else; I think They are trying to correct some misbirths through creating certain ... events on that island. And I can sense ...' he paused as if very deep thought, '... a something. It is too hidden by magic, old magic, Excru. It's important but I don't know what or why, yet.'
      'A something?' thought the older wizard. 'An object or a person?'
      'An object, perhaps.'
      Excru fleetingly pictured in his mind the try-square.
      'Hmmm, that's it, Excru, that is the object.'
      'Why is that important?'
      'It is very old. That's all I know. And it belongs here and not somewhere else.'
      Excru sighed. This was getting rather complicated. 'So what am I to do?'
      'Inoc Island would be a good start, hmmm. You should get there soon, if I'm not mistaken.'
      'Soon? It would take five or six days, even on these fine horses. Then another by boat.'
      'You could fly, hmmm?'
      Excru turned very pale. 'Never! Flying's for witches ... only witches!' He swallowed and his mouth instantly went dry as he panicked at the very thought of leaving terra firma below.
      'Hmmm, it's the only way you'll get there quickly. Your choice, though.'
      'Excru, there is no choice,' thought Zolin with unusual seriousness. 'I think that we have important work there; to save the world ... the universe, even.'
      'The lad's right, Excru.'
      'Very well. We may fly, but not yet. I need to go back to Gibson City first.'
      'You need to go back?' queried Zolin.
      'Yes! I have many things to ... arrange.'
      'Hmmm. Don't be too long, Mister Wizard. My offer doesn't last for ever. Huh, huh.'
      Skimblezipper chuckled condescendingly. He remained in his favourite position; laying on the very edge of The Scarp with one front leg and the arrow-pointed tip of his tail hanging over the thousand-foot drop. That way, he could look out over The Lowlands. The dragon could likely even see the sea in the far-off distance. Humans couldn't.
      Excru and Zolin mounted and sped off. After several minutes, when they were well out of ear-shot of normal speech, Skimblezipper communicated again, but this time only with Excru.
      'The half-Elf, Excru: she has ... hmmm ... plans, I am sure.'
      'Yes, I suspected so much myself, damned woman.'
      'Hmmm. Yes. I am a little surprised that even Elf genes have carried the lust for certain ... things… so far through time. It's not so important as the Alignment at the moment, but I think you know to what I refer. If she succeeds, it will unbalance the peace in all four Thrups.'
      'Gods! You are so right. And it's not just her. There are many others.'
      'Hmmm. In Southeast there are many with the Elven taint. But in the Barrier Mountains between Northeast and Northwest I have seen whole camps of halflings like her. And there are a few halflings and thruplings wandering with the gypsies. But she is the most powerful that I have felt for many a year. You remember the old legends of the Elves; the five-thousand-year story? Hmmm? If she finds what she seeks, it could prove that legend true. And we can do without that, can't we, Excru?'
      'But the Elves wouldn't bother you too much, Skimblezipper. Why the concern?'
      'Hmmm. Wars are wars. Even dragons appreciate peace. War and unrest seek new victims all the time. Dragons would be involved eventually. Men may have calmed down but Elves never do. No, Excru, the Elf-woman must not be permitted to find what she lusts after.'
      'Not if it's what I think it is. They'd rally round her if she were successful; she has the makings of an Elf-leader ... the fabled Elf-Queen. But what can I alone do to stop her?'
      'You have Zolin. He's important in some way. Hmmm. And Inoc is the important place to be.'
      'If you know so much, why talk to me in riddles? Tell me everything!'
      'Hmmm. That's all I know. It's down to you, now. And you'd better make haste. Call me when you need me and don't be too long. And don't forget to take that tool with you.'
      Skimblezipper ceased his thoughts as abruptly as turning off a light switch. The night air was cool and Excru's eyes watered as the horses bore he and Zolin speedily towards the city.
      "Exciting, isn't it!" shouted Zolin.
      "Stupid boy," he muttered.

"Ugh!"
      "Wazzappened?!"
      "Wha' the hell's gan'g on?"
      The two musicians and the carpenter sat forlornly in the shallow water, pond weed draped over their heads and shoulders. Mad Dog shook an irate stickleback from his ear. They looked around bewildered.
      "Cor! They're all right, ain't they?" enthused Sister Racquel.
      "Mine's the wild red-headed one," cried Sister George.
      Sister Goodthighs nodded her approval. "Nice magic, George! They're really horny."
      The three men clambered out of the water.
      "Hello, boys." Sister George helped Brian Mackintosh step over the raised edge of the garden pond. "Why, you're all wet. I expect you'll be wanting to get out of those nasty smelly wet clothes. Come with us and we'll bathe you while your clothes are washed and dried."
      The other two nuns helped Ajax and Rob.
      "Where the hell are we?" asked Ajax.
      "Oh, you're in a very safe place, my sweet," assured Sister Goodthighs.
      "Very safe indeed," said Sister Racquel to Rob, linking her arm in his.
      "But…" started Robert Platt.
      "Hush now, my darling. It's all a bit of a shock, I know. But you have been chosen. That's it; chosen for a very special task. It's a great honour!"
      "I can'ne friggin' understand it. One minute I'm standin' on the stage in Frisco lookin' a' The Eye, an' the next, I'm flyin' through space an' landin' in some friggin' fishpond. Who're are these ladies? Nay tha' I'm complainin' or anythin'!" he added as he saw the attractive features of Sister George from under her hood.
      Brian Mad Dog Mackintosh had a way with women. Or rather they had a way with him. It had been like that all his life. First it had been the geography teacher at his school who had seduced him in the stationery cupboard during detention. He always got detention from her; she made sure of that. Then, when he started playing in bands as a teenager, it was the amateur 'groupies' who were constantly making themselves available to him. He'd had a different girl at every gig; several at some. And now that he was a rich and famous rock star, it was the professional groupies, top models and film stars, who relentlessly pursued him for his renowned sexual capabilities. He took it all in his stride.
      "I din'ne ken where I am, but I think I'm gan'g 'e' like it."
      "STOP!"
      All six looked swiftly in the direction of the loud command. The spectacle that loomed out of the dark doorway was terrifyingly magnificent. Mother Marilyn was in full Rit-Prov receiving trim. Imagine a tall statue of a Gothic vampire goddess, add wild black hair framing model-like chiseled cheekbones and jaw, all accentuated by white and black make-up and exotic ritual eye decoration, full black pouting lips and long fingers extended by curved black fingernails; only more Gothic and more vamp-like. She threw off her cloak to reveal regulation Rit-Prov black satin bra and suspenders, black silk stockings (seamed, of course), and posed with one slender hand on hip and the other delicately bearing in its lengthy digits a long black cigarette holder complete with smouldering black perfumed ritual cigarette.
      "THEY ARE MINE! THEY ARE ALL MINE!"
      "Oh, come on, Mother Marilyn, I jest magicked 'em up for us!"
      "IT'S THE RULES! HIGH PRIESTESS GETS FIRST PICKINGS!"
      The mutterings of the three nuns included some very bad language indeed, even for totally magicked-out mad nuns.
      Mother Marilyn sidled sexily around the three men, stroking their faces with the back of a long fingernail. She stood back from Ajax and smiled. "Very pretty, Very pretty indeed." She circumnavigated Robert Platt, admiring his body. "Um. Tall and slim. I like those tight trousers. Nice little bum, too." She pinched it.
      "Ow!"
      But she was particularly attracted by Mad Dog's strong shoulders and muscly arms. She ran her fingers through his long red hair, finally pulling it sharply so that his head was suddenly wrenched back. To Brian Mackintosh, this was more heavenly than heaven, more spaced-out than space; she was just his type.
      "This one. The red-headed heathen. He's first!"
      "Heathen. I like that," he commented.
      "What about the other two, Mother Marilyn?"
      "Keep them fresh for me for later; and I do mean fresh." Her lascivious glare was consuming Mad Dog, feeling him, tasting him. "But this one I want NOW. PREPARE HIM!"

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