The Eye of Zoltar

At the Claerwin

‘Hello, everyone,’ said our new travelling companion as soon as we were on the move, ‘you don’t have to call me Mr Wilson – Wilson is just dandy. I’m an ornithologist.’

‘A what?’ asked Curtis.

‘It’s someone who studies birds,’ said the Princess.

‘Hadn’t you heard?’ said Curtis with an impertinent laugh. ‘Birds have all but vanished in the Empire.’

‘Which makes the sport of birdwatching quintriply fascinating,’ said Wilson. ‘Think of the thrill of finding a bird where there aren’t any. Marvellous.’

‘You’re mad,’ said Curtis.

‘Bit rude,’ said Wilson cheerfully. ‘Who’s the hairy chap and does he know that his thing is showing?’

‘That’s Ralph,’ I said, ‘and I don’t think he cares if it’s showing or not.’

‘Ook,’ said Ralph, sort of in agreement.

‘An ornithologist?’ I said, still considering Wilson’s earlier statement.

‘It’s how I managed to negotiate his release so easily,’ said Addie. ‘Gareth mistook ornithologist for anthologist. Practitioners skilled in the art of collecting works of poetry are sound, tradable commodities out here, while birdwatchers just eat your food and say: “Ooh, stop the car a minute, I think I can see Painted Dillbury”.’

‘Where?’ asked Wilson excitedly, before realising it was simply an example. ‘The funny thing,’ he added, ‘is that I am also an anthologist. I didn’t tell them because they never asked. I’m very grateful, by the way. As a special treat I’ll tell you all about the Cloud Pippit. The sparrow-sized bird has a density only slightly greater than helium and nests upon rising columns of air—’

‘Bored now,’ said Curtis.

‘Still rude,’ said Wilson.

‘Where are you heading?’ I asked.

‘This way, now,’ he said, pointing in the direction we were going. ‘I have no plans. You?’

‘Llangurig,’ I answered, ‘and then perhaps to Cadair Idris.’

‘To watch Leviathans?’ he asked, suddenly excited.

‘It’s possible.’

‘Not exactly birds, but they do fly and have as yet unobserved mating rituals – I’m in.’

‘It’s on a fifty per cent risk factor,’ I said, ‘and we’ve not lost anyone yet so mathematically speaking you could still be fair game.’

‘I’m still in,’ said Wilson with a grin. ‘I’ve heard Leviathans are a total blast.’

There were no other incidents of note in the next hour, and after driving through a narrow gorge where we had to pay two sub-quality bandits an insultingly low fee for the privilege to pass, we came upon the Claerwin lake, a large body of water nestling quietly about twenty miles inside the Quarter. We drove along the banks of the lake for a mile or so and arrived at one of the many campsites dotted about the countryside, expressly for the use of travellers eager to spend a safe and unmolested night.

‘Okay,’ said Addie as we pulled into the deserted campsite and parked next to the shattered remains of long-abandoned armoured vehicles, ‘I know it’s not late, but we’ll camp here for the night. It’ll be a long day tomorrow if we’re to make Llangurig before nightfall.’

We climbed out of the half-track and stared at the lake, which was about a mile across.

‘It looks almost perfectly … circular,’ said Curtis.

‘I read in Conspiracy Theorist magazine that the lakes around here are craters from top-secret Thermowizidrical Device weapons tests back in the eighties,’ said Ignatius.

‘Thermowizidrical … what?’ asked Curtis.

‘Using magic to cause explosions,’ I said, ‘usually two contradicting spells that draw increasing amounts of power as they attempt to cancel each other out. If left unchecked the spell will break down and then either fizzle out or go supercritical and violently explode. Crucially, the two spells could be potentially just written down – the power to take out a city block or two from a few scribbles on the back of an envelope.’

‘There was magical fallout for years following the testing,’ said Addie, ‘resulting in all sorts of odd occurrences: balls of light, strange apparitions, levitations. We think it’s how Buzonjis were created. That a pony and an okapi were too close to one another drinking at the lake and, bingo – fused by a wayward spell.’

‘Wow,’ said Ignatius, ‘it’s like we’re standing near the location of a massive weapons test area or something.’

‘It’s not like we are,’ said Curtis, ‘we are standing on the site of a weapons test area.’

‘Is it still dangerous?’ asked Wilson.

‘Not if we don’t stay too long,’ said Addie, ‘forty-eight hours, max. If anyone notices any weirdness, raise the alarm.’

‘What sort of weirdness?’ asked Curtis.

‘Metal corroding too quickly, sand changing into glass, growing extra toes – you’ll definitely know it when you see it.’

‘Like that?’ he said, pointing to where a jetty had been built out into the lake, and to which several rowing boats had been tied. All three were floating in the air like balloons, held down only by the ropes that attached them to the jetty. Two of the rowing boats bumped gently in the breeze like inverted wind-chimes.

‘Yes,’ said Addie, ‘kind of like that.’

We had a look around. There were several camping tables, barbecues and what looked like old leather sofas. I was about to sit on one when Addie stopped me. She kicked the sofa a couple of times and it eventually got up in a very fed-up manner and waddled off into the brush.

‘Physarum emeffeye metamorphica,’ said Addie, ‘a sort of furniture-emulating slime mould. Annoying more than dangerous. Ten hours’ sleep in one of those and it would digest all the stitching out of your clothes. I’ve seen them transform into Regency card tables, futons and barstools. One example that had disguised itself as an Eames Lounge Chair even got to the first round of bidding at an auction of contemporary furniture.’

‘More magical fallout?’ asked the Princess.

‘In one,’ said Addie, ‘it’s why we can’t stop here for more than forty-eight hours. These will be your home tonight.’

She was indicating one of the more obvious features of the campsite: the pod poles.

To guard against night predation by Tralfamosaur, Hotax, Snork Badger or the Variant-N flesh-eating slug, it was wise to sleep inside a small pod that was situated atop a thirty-foot shiny steel pole that was anchored firmly to the ground. There was a ladder for access, of course, with the first section able to be hauled up out of reach.

While Curtis and Ignatius went off to find some fireberries for heat and light and Wilson went on a hunt for abandoned stores, Addie and I went to check the perimeter fence.

‘Do you think Curtis and Ignatius are safe digging up fireberries?’ I asked, knowing how easily the large, volatile, radish-like vegetable can ignite when handled roughly.

‘Who cares?’ said Addie. ‘Hang the wire back on the post, will you?’

I did as Addie asked, and before long we had the perimeter fence, which was basically lots of tin cans hanging on a wire, back up.

‘So what do we do if we hear the cans clinking?’ I asked.

‘It’s not a question of if, but when,’ said Addie, ‘and hopefully when we’re safe up our poles. I can only hope the Tralfamosaurs don’t come. They can’t reach us but the hungry smacky noises can keep you awake for hours.’

There was a mild whompa noise as the first fireberry ignited, and this was followed by several more dull concussions as other fireberries were lit and placed in baskets hung on high poles, for light. When we got back to the camp we found Ignatius had set up an awning attached to the vehicle and held up with two tent poles, and several bits of non-slime mould furniture had been gathered together for us to sit on.

Once the supper was on, Addie beckoned me aside and lowered her voice.

‘I have an … errand to run. Don’t wait up for me, and make sure everyone is up their poles by sundown or the moment the fence jangles.’

I told her I’d be a lot happier if she didn’t take the half-track, but she just smiled, put two fingers into her mouth and gave out a silent whistle that made Ralph wince. There was a patter of hooves from nearby and an Appaloosa Buzonji approached rapidly from the south-west. I presumed it had been tailing us all day, keeping just out of sight. It trotted up, and tossed its head happily as Addie gave it a carrot. She released the stirrups from the finely tooled saddle, and expertly mounted up.

‘If I don’t come back, I’m dead and you’re on your own.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. What are you going to do?’

‘You don’t want to know. See you in the morning.’

And she galloped off like a bullet into the evening light, back the way we had come.

‘She’s very tough, isn’t she?’ said the Princess. ‘Do you think she’d want to be my bodyguard when I’m a princess again?’

‘Please don’t tell her you’re a princess,’ I replied. ‘What with rubber Dragons, Class III legend status amulets, pirates, Leviathans and a missing boyfriend whose age difference is now a teensy-weensy bit inappropriate, I’ve got about all the dramas I need.’

We sat down to wait while Wilson made supper over an extra-large fireberry that, unlike the smaller, brighter ones, burned slow with a dull red glow. Ralph, newly Australopithecine, was fascinated.

‘Ook?’ he said, as I held one of the light-giving variety in my cupped hands, the beams of light spilling out past my fingers.

‘Ook?’ he said again, as I placed the fireberry in his small, nut-brown hands.

Curtis and Ignatius stared at their former friend with a mixture of dread and disgust.

‘We can’t take him back to his family like that,’ said Curtis, ‘primitive, barely house-trained and with his thing showing.’

‘I agree,’ said Ignatius, ‘it would be kinder to just turn him loose and let nature take its course. We can tell Ralph’s family he fell into a swamp or got eaten by slugs or something.’

‘Or we could just put it to S.L.E.E.P,’ suggested Curtis.

‘That would be the humane thing, I suppose.’

‘Ook?’ said Ralph, who had been listening with a confused expression.

‘Wow,’ said Curtis, ‘it’s like it almost understands us.’

‘Can you sit farther away?’ I said to Curtis and Ignatius.

‘Any particular reason?’

‘How about “your lack of compassion disgusts me”?’

‘Whatever you say, boss-girl,’ said Curtis sarcastically.

‘And,’ I added, ‘if you so much as touch a hair on the head of the Australopithecine, you’ll have me to reckon with.’

‘We were just joking,’ said Curtis in the sort of way that suggested they weren’t. But they moved away. Ralph watched them leave but elected to stay with us.

‘I don’t like that Curtis fellow one bit,’ said the Princess. ‘He keeps on staring at my whatnots. I mean, I know they’re not the royal whatnots which are protected from prolonged staring by the death sentence, but even so, Laura’s whatnots are whatnots none the less, and he shouldn’t stare at them.’

I told her I was in firm agreement, having experienced something similar from Curtis myself.

‘Shall I kill him?’ said the Princess after a pause. ‘My father insisted I was trained in the art of silent assassination, “just in case”.’

‘Just in case of what?’

‘Lots of things,’ said the Princess. ‘Doing away with a dopey royal husband to take over a kingdom, for one. It happens more than you think, believe me.’

‘Wouldn’t going to marriage counselling be safer?’

‘What, and have to discuss our marriage problems with a stranger? Don’t be ridiculous. So, shall I kill him?’

‘Absolutely not. You can’t kill someone for staring at whatnots, royal or otherwise – not even if you are a princess.’

I looked at my watch.

‘Hold the fort – I’m going to call home.’