‘Good afternoon, Lady Mawgon.’
‘I’ve been waiting for you, Jennifer.’
‘Listen,’ I said, ‘I know we’ve not been getting on very well at present, but there’s a Big Magic going on tomorrow at noon, and I’ve got to be there.’
I didn’t get to say any more as there was a sharp report from the front door as the lock was shot off, and a cry from Sir Matt. There were footfalls on the steps of at least six officers and I heard shouts and cries in the lobby.
‘Sir Matt?’ called Lady Mawgon. ‘Would you come into the Palm Court please?’
Sir Matt stepped in and nodded respectfully to Lady Mawgon.
‘My Lady,’ he said, ‘will you give her to me?’
There was one of those long pauses that seem to go on for ever. I closed my eyes.
‘I have not see the wretched child all afternoon,’ she announced. ‘After you find her, you may send her to me.’
‘Don’t think me untrusting,’ said Sir Matt, and he beckoned his officers to search the Palm Court. He stepped forward and Lady Mawgon placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. Sir Matt could not have missed me, but he did—and I breathed a sigh of relief. Lady Mawgon had occluded me from his sight. I could not be seen, so long as I stood perfectly still and made no noise.
‘Nothing in here, sir,’ said an officer, and trotted out to search the rest of the building.
‘She won’t get far,’ replied Grifflon. ‘The whole of the Old Town is sealed off.’
He turned back to Lady Mawgon and lowered his voice.
‘If I find out you’ve hidden her, I will return—and my revenge will be frightful.’
She gave him one of her most imperious looks, and Sir Matt called off the search since the wizards, ever worried about thieves, had left frighteners in their rooms, and even the burliest officers were quaking with fear at what they had seen. Within five minutes they had gone, and Lady Mawgon took her hand off my shoulder.
‘There is a Big Magic to be completed,’ she said in a quiet voice and without looking me in the eye, ‘and it behoves me to set our differences aside. Get a good night’s sleep. I will watch over you.’
‘Lady M—’
‘It is my duty,’ she said, ‘nothing more.’
I said nothing, and went to find Tiger.
Escape from Zambini Towers
Lady Mawgon was true to her word. She sat up all night in the lobby, and whenever any of Grifflon’s men came in to look for me, she gave them such a devastatingly withering look that they scurried out again, tail between legs. Tiger and I talked deep into the night down in the kitchens. At 1 a.m. a thump in the laundry room made us nervous until we found that it was the Quarkbeast, who had managed to sneak back into Zambini Towers by way of the laundry chute without being noticed.
The early morning radio bulletins estimated that the crowds up at the Dragonlands had topped eight million people, and anticipation was high. Neither King Snodd nor Sir Matt Grifflon had made any further proclamations, so I could only assume that they were still looking for me. Unstable Mabel made us pancakes for breakfast, and then a special batch for the Quarkbeast, who liked them with curry powder instead of flour.
‘Every exit is covered by at least three Imperial Guards,’ said Tiger, who had been around to check. This was not good news.
‘I need to retrieve Exhorbitus from some wasteground and then get to the Dragonstation,’ I replied. ‘No one is permitted to hinder a Dragonslayer while on official duties, and to be honest, once I’m in the armoured Rolls-Royce, nothing but an artillery shell could stop me—and even King Snodd would think twice before trying to kill me in broad daylight and in front of the TV cameras.’
‘It’s five hundred yards to the Dragonstation,’ said Tiger. ‘They’re not after me. Perhaps I could fetch the Slayermobile for you?’
‘Can you drive?’
‘How hard can it be?’
Just then, Lady Mawgon walked into the kitchen and handed me a copy ofThe Daily Mollusc. The front page had banner headlines explaining how everything was fine after all and it was no longer necessary for me to slay Maltcassion. It added that the Duke of Brecon and King Snodd had kissed and made up, the Quarkbeast was no longer an illegal animal, the sale of marzipan had been banned and all foundlings everywhere were to be reunited with their parents.
‘This is all far too good to be true,’ I muttered, and as soon as I had, the enchantment crumbled. I was no longer reading a newspaper but simply staring at a colourless grey pebble.
‘What you have in your hand is a Pollyanna stone’, explained Mawgon. ‘Whoever holds the pebble will see what they expect or hope to see. It might be of use if you are stopped on the way.’
‘Can’t you just make her invisible?’ asked Tiger.
Lady Mawgon stared at him.
‘Entire lifetimes have been spent and lost in that pursuit,’ she replied, as though Tiger should know better. ‘I will leave you now.’
She turned away, thought for a moment, then turned back.
‘If you tell anyone I’ve been nice to you,’ she said, narrowing her eyes, ‘I will make it my solemn duty to render both your lives as unbearable as possible. And don’t think I’m not going to have you both replaced on Monday, for I will.’
And without another word, she left the room.
‘The sorcerers are an odd bunch, aren’t they?’ said Tiger with a smile.
‘They grow on you,’ I replied, ‘even Lady Mawgon-Gorgon there.’
‘I heard that!’ came a voice from outside.
We finished breakfast and talked about a plan to get me to the Dragonstation. There were several possible ideas mooted, but none passed the stringent ‘remotely plausible’ test. We were still scratching our heads when we heard a noise outside, and found that the Quarkbeast had dragged a pram from one of the building’s many boxrooms, and was looking at us excitedly and wagging its tail.
‘Brilliant!’ said Tiger. ‘The Quarkbeast’s a genius! Listen carefully: we’ll need some baby clothes, a piece of card, a felt-tip pen, some old clothes and a wig.’
Twenty minutes later, and after Tiger had wished me all the very best of luck, I let myself out of the garage doors at the back of Zambini Towers and walked towards where the guards were standing on the corner. I was dressed in one of the Sisters Karamazov’s old outfits and a red wig I had borrowed from Mr Zambini’s dressing-up box, and was pushing the Quarkbeast in the pram. The Quarkbeast was wrapped up in a baby shawl and wearing a pretty pink bonnet. A placard tied to the front of the pram announced that I was collecting for the Troll Wars Orphans Fund. I wasn’t convinced this would work but Tiger was smart and it was the only idea we had had.
‘Everyone has lost someone in the Troll Wars,’ he had explained, ‘so no one will stop you.’
He was right. Since Troll Wars widows begging for coins were not at all uncommon, I was ignored by the members of the Imperial Guard who were searching every car on the roads. There were posters of me up on the walls, telling the general public how I was a dangerous lunatic and a traitor and had to be stopped as a matter of national security. As I crossed the road a police car passed with a large loudspeaker on the roof, offering an earldom and a guest spot on the You Bet Your Life! quiz show to whoever turned me in. I quickened my pace and made it to the waste ground where I had hidden Exhorbitus. I wrapped the sword in a blanket, hid it under the pram and turned into the road in which the Dragonstation was located.
There was a ‘Police line do not cross’ tape barring my way, and outside the Dragonstation were two Imperial Guard armoured cars, and upwards of a dozen soldiers, all armed. I took a deep breath and walked towards them. It was all going well; if I could make it to the Rolls-Royce all would be—