They all wanted to go on to Kinspit, and
the quick way, once they had been persuaded that looking for Viola for any
longer was pointless. Dom was still too shocked to know what was really going
on, Potentilla wanted to go where Kath was going and Kath just wanted to get
away. Although none of them could express the thought openly, they all feared
that Viola was dead. Staying longer here where she may have been killed was the
last thing that any of them wanted to do. In any case, none of them seemed to
fully understand what the risks were in John’s plan, even when Hardacre
explained it a second time.
They made their way
up to the colonnade. The parrots came to greet them, and Hardacre gave them
instructions to return to Tamarix by the safest possible route. The Micropsitta
were very upset. They had a brief whispered conversation.
‘You must take one of
us with thee’ said Psithuros
‘Now that we have met
thee, we cannot lose all contact again...’ said Hapalonyx
‘We have agreed that
I will go...’ whispered Akenopteryx, ‘...if thou willst allow it. I would like
to help thee in thy search for the Lady Viola’
Hardacre looked enquiringly at John. He nodded – this was a request that
could not be denied.
‘You are very welcome
in my house, mistress Akenopteryx’ John said
‘Ambassador Akenopteryx, sir’ whispered Hardacre
John smiled.
‘Of course...Ambassador
Akenopteryx’ he said, acknowledging his mistake with a small nod.
Hardacre bid the
other two Micropsitta to leave as soon as they could, and so they left
straightaway, flying into the high canopy and disappearing immediately.
Akenopteryx perched on the balustrade running round the colonnade, waiting
patiently.
It was time. John took out the bag out
of his pocket and unfolded it. The entrance to the bag was no more than two foot
across. Hardacre stared into with intense distrust. He took a penny out of his
pocket and dropped it in – it seemed to fall a long way. Kath looked in after
him.
‘Laurence – didn’t
you give one of these bags to Rem?’ she asked
‘Yes’ he replied,
‘but that was before I knew how dangerous they are’ He looked back at John,
‘particularly if you get into them’
‘Oh...’ said Kath,
not knowing what else to say.
John frowned and glared at Hardacre.
‘It will be
instantaneous. The risk is diminishingly small’
There was a pause,
during which John hand the bag to Potentilla and gestured for her to drop it on
the floor and hold it open.
‘Shall we do this,
then?’ asked John
Hardacre had picked
up the thin green stick that was all that was left of the snake-elf. He held it
carefully, almost reverentially. ‘If we must’ he said. He stepped over the lip of the bag and into
the hole.
He dropped about six
foot, but as with his earlier experience in his first bag, the normal laws of
gravity didn’t really apply. He found himself at the bottom of the bag, without
a bump or a jar. Potentilla flung
herself in enthusiastically, while Dom struggled down as if on an invisible
step ladder. Kath just closed her eyes and fell forward. Last in was
Akenopteryx, uncertain of how to fly in folded space. It was all she could do
to find Dom’s shoulder and perch on it.
The bag was roomier
inside than they had feared. They could all stand up quite easily.
John looked down at
them. ‘Ready?’ he asked. Hardacre glanced round at the others, who all nodded.
‘Hurry up’ he murmured. The bag above them closed. They were plunged into
darkness. There was a moment of silence
during which no-one could hear or see anything. Then they all saw the blue disc
of light on the wall.
‘What’s by the gods
is that?’ shouted Kath
‘Just what I feared’
Hardacre hissed, ‘they’ve found us immediately’. He sparked up a phosphorescent
light on to his left hand and held it up, ‘Everyone behind me’ he commanded,
‘as close to the centre of the bag as you can reach’
They all shuffled
round as rapidly as they could so that they were huddled behind Hardacre.
No-one dared say a word.
The
wall began to bulge outwards, its flimsy fabric ripping. Out from the tear came
a pointed blue head connected to a long worm-like body. The head had no eyes or
ears, just two ragged slits either side of its midline. It began to sniff as it
extended itself towards the cowering party.
Potentilla jumped
past Hardacre and drew her sword. As the blue head snuffled towards her she
slashed at with all her might. The sword twanged off the blue nose. All this
seemed to do was to make the smelling more insistent. Potentilla stood in
horror as it nestled up against her. Now it was close she could see that there
were innumerable small suckers on the underside of the head, and these began to
stick on to the exposed areas of her flesh. She shrieked and tried to move
away.
Hardacre, having no
other weapon, stepped forward and swung the naga stick on to the head of the
creature. The effect was instant – the monster let go of Potentilla and shrunk
back. It gave one more massive sniff and then it retreated back out of the bag.
Behind the hole they could see the Outer Void
– an endless expanse of blue filled with clouds and other shapeless things.
‘Why did that
happen?’ asked Hardacre, to no-one in particular.
‘Quiena made the
naga’ answered Kath, ‘and no foul thing can stand the touch of her creations’
‘Are they foul
things, though?’ Hardacre murmured, but he had no time to think about it any
further. The bag above them opened and John’s face appeared. His entrance hall
was clearly visible behind him – they could see a rack of umbrellas.
‘Everything go
alright?’ he asked. No-one answered. They were all too busy scrambling out. John felt both of his arms grabbed, but at
least this was easy – it took no strength at all to pull someone from a folded
bag into the real world.
Dom and Potentilla
were out first leaving their packs behind, closely followed by a squawking
Akenopteryx; Kath only paused long enough to grab the bag with her maps in it.
Hardacre was last out, bringing his backpack and the naga stick. He hurried too
– he knew just what would happen to the bag now.
John closed the top
of the bag and they waited, staring intently at it. After a couple of minutes
it began to unravel – the threads pinging off one by one. Hardacre stood
staring at John; he scarcely watched the bag at all.
‘We must never do that again, sir’ he commanded
John crossed both
fingers behind his back. His voice was as smooth as silk,
‘If course not,
Laurence. I wouldn’t dream of it...’
Hardacre gave him a
sour look. ‘Of course, sir’ he said. The others stood exhausted and confused.
They were in the hallway of a large comfortable house. It was unlike anything
they’d seen for a long time. Kath had a
wild look in her eye and Potentilla and Dom were only standing because they
were propping each other up.
‘Now, if you will
excuse me, I shall prepare rooms for our unexpected guests. I think they need
some rest’
It being a genuine emergency (for once),
Hardacre wasted no time finding rooms for the exhausted humanoids and a quiet
part of the garden for Akenopteryx. Kath could be accommodated in a downstairs
room near to the scullery; the other two, however, who would not be separated,
he put in two rooms on the second floor. Propriety insisted, however, that they
be placed at either ends of the corridor, three rooms away from each other. Hardacre never enquired whether people strayed
from their rooms; his job was simply to make sure that they were placed in
appropriate ones to begin with.
Kath had to help him
make the beds and lay the fires. It seemed that Simkins was on his half-day off
and was visiting his aunt and it was clearly out-of-the-question to allow John
to help in such a menial task. After that, all that anyone wanted to do was to
eat heartily and then sleep.
***
At about three in the morning Dom woke
with a full bladder. After a struggle to go back to sleep he got up and walked
along the corridor to the lavatory, which was in the bathroom at the far end.
As he wandered back he could hear the sound of Potentilla weeping in her room.
The door was slightly ajar and so he knocked on it and then pushed it open. The
room was still lit. She was lying under her blankets, a handkerchief pressed to
her nose. In any one else this would all look a bit theatrical, but with
Potentilla it was probably entirely real.
‘Tillie’ he
whispered, tiptoeing over to her bed, ‘what’s the matter?’
She looked up at him.
Her voice was a sob.
‘She’s dead – I know
it. Before I was in her team I sometimes got the feeling that people thought I
was a bit stupid or a bit strange, but she found me useful and we did such
marvellous things together. And she was always clever and kind. And now she’s
gone’
Dom sat on the bed.
Without any warning Potentilla sat up and grabbed him, pulling him down.
‘Give me a hug,
please’ she whimpered. He squirmed round, awkward in the tangle of her limbs.
Finally he spooned her.
‘She’s probably fine;
she’s very resourceful’ was all he could think to say.
She shook her head;
the bed rattled.
‘Not without us she
isn’t. She’s just silly old Vee...’
He held her until she
stopped weeping. After that he allowed her to make love to him, in part because
he wanted her, but mostly because he saw no reason to limit the comfort that he
should give to a friend. It was a strange way to lose one’s virginity, but he
never regretted it.
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