'What? Just like that? I don't know. I feel a bit sick, to be honest. I think the muumuu is giving me a headache. It really is bright.'
'Maybe if Butler gave you a fright?'
'It's not the same thing. I need some real pressure. I know Mister Butler wouldn't actually kill me.'
'I wouldn't be too sure.'
'Oh, ha ha. You're a rum one, Artemis Fowl. I can see I'm going to have to stay on my toes around you.'
Butler was checking his pistol when he heard noises in the corridor. He ran to the security door and peered out through the small rectangle of toughened glass.
'We've got company,' he declared, cocking his pistol. 'Kong found us.'
The bodyguard put a single round into the electronic lock, frying the chip and sealing the door.
'It's not going to take them long to open that door. We need to wake up those demons and get out of here. Now!'
Artemis squeezed No.1 's shoulder, nodding at the security door.
'That enough pressure for you?'
On the other side of the security door Kong and his men were halted by the sight of a smoking keypad.
'Dammit,' swore Kong. 'He busted the lock. We're going to have to shoot our way in. There's no time for planning. Don, you have the case?'
Don held up the suitcase. 'Right here.'
'Good. If by some miracle there is a demon in there, clip the case on to its little wrist, good and tight. I don't want to miss another chance.'
'Will do. We have grenades, boss. We could blow the door.'
'No,' snapped Kong. 'I need Minerva and I don't want her injured.
Anyone hurts her, I hurt them. Understood?'
Everybody understood. Nothing complicated about it.
Inside the gallery, Artemis was getting a little anxious. He had hoped that Kong would leave the building immediately, but the hit man must have spotted one of the exhibition posters in the elevator and come to the same conclusion that Artemis himself had.
'Anything?' he asked No.1, who was vaguely rubbing a statue's arm.
'Not yet. I'm trying.'
Artemis patted his shoulder. 'Try a little harder. I have no desire to get involved in a firefight in a high-rise building. At the very least we would all end up in a Taiwanese prison.'
OK, thought No.1. Concentrate. Reach into the stone.
He held the stone warlock's finger tightly and tried to feel something.
From the little he knew about warlocks, he guessed that this was probably Qwan, the elder magician. The stone figure's head was circled by a simple band with a spiral motif at the front — the sign of leadership.
How terrible it must have been, No.1 reflected. To see your home dematerialize and be left behind. To know it was all your ownfault.
It was not my fault! snapped a voice in No.1 's head. It was that stupid demon N'zall. Now are you going to get me out of here or not?
No.1 almost fainted. His breath came in short explosive gasps and his heart seemed to hike upwards in his chest.
Come on, young warlock. Release me! I have been waiting for a long, long time.
The voice, the presence, was inside the sculpture. It was Qwan.
Of course it's Qwan. You're holding my hand. Who did you think it was?
You're not a simpleton, are you? Just my luck. Wait ten thousand years and then a simpleton turns up.
'I am not a simpleton!' blurted No.1.
'Of course not,' said Artemis encouragingly. 'Just do your best. I will instruct Butler to hold Kong back for as long as he can.'
No.1 bit his lip and nodded. If he spoke aloud, it could get confusing.
And this situation was confusing enough without him adding to it.
He would try thought-power. Qwan was speaking in his mind; maybe it would work the other way.
Of course it works! Qwan sent. And what is all that nonsense about cooked food? Just release me from this prison.
No.1 winced, trying mentally to black out his dreams of a cooked banquet.
I don't know how to set you free, he thought. I don't know if I can.
Of course you can, responded Qwan. You have enough magic in you to teach a troll to ploy an instrument. Just let it out.
How? I have no idea how.
Qwan was silent for a moment, while he took a quick peek into No.1's memories.
Oh, I see. You are a complete novice. No training of any kind. Just as well really. Without expert tuition you could have blown up half of
Hybras. Very well, I will give you a little nudge in the right direction. I can't do much from here, but maybe 1 can get your power flowing. It will get easier after this. Once you have been in contact with a warlock, some of his knowledge is passed on to you.
No.1 could have sworn that the stone fingers round his own tightened a fraction, but that could just have been his imagination. What was definitely not in his imagination was the sudden feeling of cold loss that sped along his arm. As though life itself were being sucked from him.
Don't worry, young warlock. I'm simply siphoning off a little magic to get the sparks running. It feels terrible, but that will not last.
It did feel terrible. No.1 imagined that dying piece by piece would feel something like this, which in a way was what was happening. And in such a situation the body will try to defend itself by seeing off the intruder. The magic that had lain dormant inside No.1 until recently suddenly exploded in his brain and gave chase to the invader.
To No.1 it felt as though he suddenly had an entire new spectrum of vision. He had been blind before, but now he could see through walls.
Of course it was not really some kind of super-vision, it was an understanding of his own abilities. The magic flowed through him like liquid fire, chasing impurities out through his pores. Venting steam through his orifices and setting the runes on his body aglow.
Good lad, sent Qwan. Now let it go. Chase me out.
No.1 found that he was able to do exactly that — to control the magical flow. He sent it after Qwan's tendril, through his own fingers and into
Qwan's. The dead feeling was replaced by a buzzing of power. He began to vibrate, and so did the statue, shedding wafers of stone like a dead snakeskin. The old warlock's fingers were solid no more, but living breathing skin. They held on to No.1 tightly, keeping the connection solid.
That's it, lad. You're doing it.
I am doing it, thought No.1 incredulously. This is really happening.
Artemis and Holly looked on in amazement as the magic spread through
Qwan's body, sloughing the stone from his limbs with pistol-shot cracks and orange flame. Life claimed Qwan's hand, then his arm, then his torso. Stone fell from his chin and mouth, allowing the warlock to heave his first breath in ten millennia. Bright blue eyes squinted against the light and shut tightly. And still the magic ran on, blasting every last shard of stone from Qwan's body, but there it stopped. When the sparks of No.1's power reached the next warlock in line, they simply fizzled and died.
'What about the others?' asked No.1. Surely he could free them too.
Qwan hacked and coughed for several moments before he answered.
'Dead,' he said, then collapsed in the rubble.
On the other side of the gallery security door, Kong was emptying a third clip from his machine pistol into the keypad.
'The door won't hold much longer,' said Butler. 'Any second now.'
