The Song of the Quarkbeast

‘I’ll find my fingers,’ she said in a low voice, ‘and they’ll still be as powerful today as when you had them removed in that lay-by. And when I get them, you’ll be sorry.’

‘You won’t find them,’ he said with a sneer, ‘I made them unfindable. No one can find them. Not even I could find them.’

And that was when I stood up, in full view of Blix, who could have turned me into stone in a second. This was the moment to act.

‘Lady Mawgon could find them,’ I said in a voice cracked with fear, ‘with the Wizard Moobin and Tiger with Perkins in reserve.’

‘Impossible!’ he said.

‘We were asked by the Mighty Shandar’s agent to find a ring that was missing. A ring that didn’t want to be found. But that wasn’t what they were really after.’

I paused as this sank in.

‘I only looked as far as the ring – I never checked the small terracotta pot that it came in.’

I brought the same small pot out of my bag, where it had lain since the Moose had over-surged, and upended it into my hand. The ring fell out first. A large ring, the sort that might fit on an index finger. Then dried dirt, a few scraps of material and finally – several human finger bones. Moobin was right; a ring has no power. The energy the Moose had extracted had come from Boo’s missing fingers. Not just her own natural energy, but a power augmented by three decades of loss, hatred, bitterness – and betrayal.

I think Blix knew the game was up, and I like to think there was just a small vestige of love in his dark heart that made him pause, lose the speed advantage, and ultimately the battle.

Maybe deep down he knew he had to atone.

Boo grasped my elbow tightly to reconnect once again with her lost fingers, and I felt a pulse of energy shoot down my forearm. My fist shut on the finger-bones so tightly my nails punctured my palm, but I didn’t feel the pain. In an instant Boo and Blix were locked in spell, and a wall of blue light welled up between them as they tried to break down each other’s defences. They struggled like this for some moments, grappling with one another. The heat and light increased, a heavy wind blew up, and a moment later there was a blinding concussion.

Aftermath

I may have been unconscious for a few moments; I don’t know. But when I came to, Boo was brushing herself down and replacing her lost fingers in the small terracotta pot. Blix had come off worse in the encounter and was now himself rendered perfectly in black granite, his last agonising yell of pain preserved for ever. Sister Yolanda’s prophecy had come true. They always do.

‘Well,’ said the the Magnificent Boo in a chirpy voice, ‘I think that turned out quite favourably, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘yes, I think it did.’

‘Why do you think the Mighty Shandar wanted my fingers?’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘To push destiny? For more power? Maybe Shandar’s getting rid of those who might challenge him when he returns. Perhaps we’ve yet to find out. Magic works in mysterious ways.’

‘It certainly does.’

She turned to pick up her gloves and made to walk away.

‘Will you be coming back?’ I asked.

‘I have Quarkbeasts to feed. And they like their walkies.’

She gave me a smile.

‘Keep well, Miss Jennifer Strange.’

‘I will,’ I said, ‘thank you.’

She nodded, and walked away.

The formerly stone Kazam staff were stretching themselves after their brief incarceration. A thousand years or eight seconds feels the same when in stone, so I think they were very glad to see Tiger and myself unchanged – and Blix in granite, of course.

‘That was very, very brave, Samantha,’ I heard Moobin say once Tiger had explained what had happened.

‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but can I just point out that you don’t pronounce the “A” . . .’

‘You!’ said Lady Mawgon, whose capacity to harangue did not seem to have been diminished by her imprisonment. ‘I am hungry. Instruct Cook to make me a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea. I shall be in my room. Don’t forget to knock, and if the sandwich is unsatisfactory I will send it back.’

And she glided off out of the Palm Court.

‘Back to normal, eh?’ said Tiger.

‘Back to normal.’

There was a lot of explaining to do to everyone, and word soon came through from Lord Tenbury that the general magic amnesty had been signed by the King. The day’s spelling would not require any paperwork at all, for which I was very glad. Everyone in the building of any power, whether licensed or not, took advantage of this and contributed to finishing the bridge – it was completed in twenty-three minutes and was open for traffic by teatime. Now that we knew the passthought, we could use the stored crackle to carry out much-needed repairs to Zambini Towers. By the time the Dibble Storage Coils were once again empty, the old building shone like a new pin under a fresh coat of paint, revarnished wood and polished brass. The Palm Court was once more full of lush tropical vegetation and the central fountain, dry for over six decades, gurgled into life. We even restocked the wine cellar and reinstated the elevators, but kept the service lift empty and free-fall-enabled, just for fun.

Over an extended afternoon tea I had to repeat the story of the trip up to Trollvania about six times as news of Zambini was sparse, and everyone wanted to know how he was.

At five I was in a press conference, and after that I fielded a few work calls from new clients who had seen what we had done that afternoon. If things got busier, we were going to need to license more sorcerers.

‘A busy day,’ said Perkins, who dropped into the office when things were finally beginning to calm down.

I smiled.

‘Very busy.’

‘Too busy for that date at the Dungeon Rooms?’

I didn’t hesitate.

‘Not at all – I’d like that very much.’

‘Lobby at seven, then – and without Tiger.’

‘No Tiger,’ I said, ‘promise.’

So I went and had a bath and changed into my second-best dress – I didn’t wear my very best as I wanted to keep that in reserve.

I wasn’t waiting in the lobby for long. Perkins arrived dressed in a suit, and dotted around the lobby were most of the residents, all eager to see us walk out together.

‘You’re looking very lovely,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

He held the door open.

‘Wait!’

It was Tiger, running from the direction of the office and holding a sheet of paper.

‘I’m off duty,’ I told him, ‘for the first time in four years.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. Off duty.’

I smiled at Perkins as he took my arm and escorted me outside to where my Volkswagen was waiting, the Quarkbeast already sitting on the rear seat with a red ribbon tied around its neck in a vain attempt to make it look less fearsome. Perkins opened the driver’s door for me, and I paused for a moment.

‘Perky, would you excuse me just a moment?’