The Last Dragonslayer

Patrick and the Childcatcher

Tiger Prawns was in the lobby when I got back, and I asked him why he wasn’t manning the telephone as he had been told.

‘Very funny,’ he said.

‘I see you’ve met Patrick of Ludlow,’ I replied, trying to stifle a giggle, for Tiger was thirty feet up in the shabby atrium, perched high upon the chandelier. ‘How long have you been up there?’

‘Half an hour,’ he answered crossly, ‘with only a lot of dust and Transient Moose for company.’

‘You’ll have to suffer a few jokes in good humour,’ I told him, ‘and consider yourself lucky that you have witnessed both passive and active levitation in the same week.’

‘Which was which?’

‘Carpeteering is active; heavy lifting is passive. Could you feel the difference?’

He crossed his arms and sulked.

‘No.’

‘Did your fillings ache when he lifted you?’

‘I don’t have any fillings,’ he replied grumpily.

‘They would if you did,’ I said as I walked off towards the Kazam offices. ‘I’ll ask Patrick to get you down.’

Our heavy lifter was eating biscuits in the Avon Suite when I arrived. Patrick of Ludlow was a year shy of his fortieth birthday, and was amiable, a little simple and quite odd looking: like most sorcerers who made their living using passive levitation, he had muscles mainly where he shouldn’t—that is to say, grouped around his ankles, wrists, toes, fingers and the back of his head.

‘How did the clamping removals go?’ I asked.

‘Eight, Miss Jennifer, which brings my score to four thousand, seven hundred and four. The most popular car colour for people who don’t care where they park is silver; the least popular, black.’

‘Was it Wizard Moobin who told you to put Tiger up there?’

I knew he wouldn’t have done it on his own.

‘Yes, Miss Jennifer. Was that wrong of me?’

‘No, it was just a joke. But get him down now, yes?’

He waved his hand in the direction of the lobby, and a minute or two later Tiger walked back into the office with a scowl etched upon his forehead.

‘Patrick, this is Tiger Prawns. Tiger is the seventh foundling, here to help me run the place. Tiger, this is Patrick of Ludlow, our heavy lifter, who was told to put you up there by a wizard or wizards unknown, and is thus blameless. You will be friends and not hold a grudge.’

Patrick jumped up politely, said how happy he was to meet him and thrust out a hand for him to shake. Tiger blinked. The hand looked like a joint of boiled ham with fingertips poking out of the end, and I watched to see what Tiger would do faced with an appendage so misshapen. To his credit, he didn’t flinch and instead held one of the fingertips and shook his hand. The lack of any reticence pleased Patrick, who grinned broadly—although he’d come to terms with the way he looked, he’d never really got used to it.

‘Sorry about putting you up there,’ he said.

‘No problem,’ replied Tiger, who had become more cheery now he knew the prank wasn’t malicious. ‘The view was very pleasant. How do you hold things with hands like that?’

‘I don’t need to,’ replied Patrick, and demonstrated by raising his tea to his lips by thought power alone.

‘Useful,’ said Tiger. ‘Who was the person on the other chandelier?’

‘What?’

Tiger repeated himself and I went out to the lobby to check. Tiger had been right, and when I saw who it was, I had to bite my lip to avoid giggling.

‘Patrick,’ I shouted down the corridor, ‘would you let the Childcatcher down, please?’

Patrick reluctantly let the man down, but not so lightly as he had Tiger, and the truant officer landed heavily on the carpet.

‘Sorry about that,’ I replied to the truant officer, even though I wasn’t, ‘but Patrick has a long memory, and you and he didn’t get along, now did you?’

‘It’s an unpopular profession,’ said the Childcatcher, brushing himself down, ‘but someone must do it.’

The Childcatcher had a weaselly face covered in unsightly pustules which was framed between two curtains of lifeless black hair.

‘He should show greater respect to a servant of the Crown.’

‘And he will,’ I assured him. ‘We take any disrespect to King Snodd’s representatives most seriously.’

‘Good,’ said the Childcatcher, although I could tell he wasn’t wholly convinced. ‘I understand you have a new foundling, and I want to know why he has not been enrolled into any schools.’

Tiger and I exchanged glances. He’d be too busy for school, and working at Kazam was education enough. Besides, if he did need to learn anything truly academic, we could always get one of the wizards to help. A book hidden under an enchanted pillow at night to seep up into the head works wonders. Sadly, the school board didn’t see it that way.

‘Unless I have a very good reason for Master Prawn’s non-attendance, we shall be forced to send him to school against his will.’

I didn’t know what to say. Mr Zambini had bribed the Childcatcher when he came for me, but that had been a different Childcatcher—one that had eventually gone to prison for taking bribes. I wasn’t sure it would work this time around, and using sorcery to bend the will of a civil servant was not only outrageously illegal, but unethical.

‘I don’t need to go to school,’ said Tiger loftily, ‘because I already know everything.’

The Childcatcher laughed.

‘Then answer me this: what did the “S” stand for in General George S. Patton?’

‘Was it “Smith”?’

‘Hmm,’ said the Childcatcher suspiciously, ‘probably a lucky guess. What are the prime factors of 1001?’

‘Easy—7, 11, and 13.’

I stifled a laugh and attempted to look serious as Tiger reeled off the answers that the Remarkable Kevin Zipp had given him the previous day. It was just as well he had memorised them.

‘Okay, that was quite impressive,’ said the Childcatcher. ‘Final question: what is the capital of Mongolia?’

‘Is it Ulan Bator?’

‘It is,’ replied the Childcatcher uneasily. ‘Looks like you are what you say you are. Good afternoon, Master Prawns, good afternoon, Miss Strange.’

And he stomped angrily from the hotel.

‘Well,’ said Tiger, ‘I know now why Kevin carries the accolade Remarkable. How did he do at the races? I expect he made a fortune.’

‘Lost every penny he owned,’ I replied, ‘and the shirt off his back. Soothsayers are like that. They see many futures, but never their own.’