The Outsorcerer's Apprentice (32 page)

“Yes,” Turquine said. “Look, you seem to know about the horrible things, is it safe if I just dump them here? They won’t go off or anything?”

Benny thought for a moment. “Bring them,” he said. “Just in case.”

“You bloody have them,” Turquine said, thrusting five brown-paper-wrapped sticks into Benny’s hands. He turned his head sideways and read
Dynamite. Danger. Consult manual before use
. Bit late for that now, of course. Still, he thought, I didn’t do too badly, did I?

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Buttercup said.

“Sorry,” Benny replied, deselecting hero mode. He leaned forward and put his head round the hole in the wall. “Is it safe in there?”

“I don’t know. It looks all right at the moment, but who knows? Any moment, some lunatic might start letting off magic thunderbolts without warning the people he’s with. I guess it’s a risk we’ll have to take. Well?” she went on, turning to Turquine. “Is it the meat place?”

“Oh yes.”

No doubt about that at all. They were standing in a narrow aisle between rows of racks, taller than any cottage in the village where Buttercup had grown up. Huge pieces of what was recognisably dragon hung from the frames by massive S-shaped hooks. The smell was overpowering and the floor was sticky.

“Dear God,” Benny said. “That’s just—”

“Actually, it must be a fairly quiet week,” Turquine said, trying to get the sword to go back in its scabbard. It must’ve got slightly bent in the explosion. He nicked his forefinger, swore and threw the sword away. “Won’t be needing that, now we’ve got your thunderbolts. No, this is nothing like full capacity. I’m guessing a consignment’s just been shipped.”

“Shipped? Shipped where?”

“There.” Turquine pointed. Benny followed the line of his forefinger and saw, set into the rock wall of the cavern—

“Ew,” Buttercup said. “That’s
gross
.”

A doughnut. Fifty feet high, sparkling with sugar granules, in the middle a sort of swirly black nothing-at-all that was almost impossible to see. Something about it, maybe some sort of Higgs-chronaton field, generated alternating gusts of hot and cold air, as though the thing was breathing. Faint traces of oil glistened on the golden-brown fabric. It was the most outrageous thing Benny had ever seen in his life.

“I’ve watched them, from away over there,” Turquine went on. “You’re not supposed to, but sometimes they leave the front gate open, and you can just see. They wheel the racks over to that thing there, and a sort of crane arrangement swings the frames in through the hole, and they vanish. No idea where they go to.”

“I know,” Benny said quietly. “They go to where we come from. My uncle and me.”

Deathly silence. Then Turquine said, “You know, I had a sort of feeling you weren’t from around here. What is it? Big tunnel right through the mountain?”

“A bit like that,” Benny said. He noticed the sticks of dynamite in his hands; somehow, he’d forgotten about them for at least twenty seconds. “But where you come out is a very, very long way from here. That’s my home. Where I used to live.”

“That’s revolting,” Buttercup said firmly. “I say we light one of your magic candles and stick it in the hole. Well, why not?” she added, as Turquine and Benny looked at her. “Stands to reason, if you ask me. The wizard uses this tunnel to take away all the stuff he gets over here, right? If we wreck the tunnel, he can’t use it any more, there’ll be no point him
being here, he’ll go away and we solve all our problems. And,” she added as an afterthought, “nobody gets hurt. Ideal solution, yes?”

Throw the fire into the ring of power, Benny thought. Of course, the stupid unicorn couldn’t have said
blow up the giant doughnut with dynamite
, too easy, not cryptic enough. Where would be the fun in giving advice people could actually understand? “What if he just builds another one?”

Buttercup shrugged. “Then we blow that up, too. There were
loads
of candles like those ones, back in that store place. I dread to think what he wants them for.”

“Cheap way to scoop out all these tunnels, I guess,” Turquine hazarded. “Why employ people when you can use magic?”

“Figures,” Buttercup said. “Anyway, if we keep on destroying his stupid gateway, sooner or later he’ll get the message and go and bother someone else. Let’s do it,” she said briskly. “Turquine, have you still got that tinderbox?”

“No, the dragons’ teeth took it off me.”

“Damn.” Buttercup looked round. “It’s all right, though, all we need is a bit of flint and something made of steel. I’m good at lighting fires.” She stooped and picked up one of the S-shaped hooks. “Turquine, what sort of stone’s that wall made out of?”

“Oddly enough, flint.”

“Well, there you are, then. And I expect His Majesty Prince Florizel’s got a dainty linen handkerchief or something like that we can use for tinder. Well, come on, you lot. There could be guards arriving any minute.”

Turquine was sorting through the rubble on the floor. He picked up a chunk of flint. “This one do?”

Buttercup looked over his shoulder. “That’s fine,” she said. “No, that one, that one
there
. Right, give it here, where’s that hanky?” She stopped and peered at something else.
“Turquine, did you know you’ve got a bright red spot on the back of your neck?”

Oh, Benny thought. “Everyone,” he said, in as level a voice as he could manage, “keep perfectly still.”

“Wasp?”

“Not as such, no.”

Two dozen dragons’ teeth emerged from the shadows at the edges of the cavern. Benny and Turquine slowly raised their hands. One of the dragons’ teeth came forward, took the dynamite away from Benny and stowed it in a sort of knapsack thing. Reluctantly, Buttercup let go of the S-shaped hook and stepped backwards. “Well, don’t look at me,” she said, and raised her hands.

“Mind out, mind your backs, coming through.” Someone was elbowing his way through the ranks of dragons’ teeth. It proved to be a short, fat young man, thin on top and smiling, wearing a sort of pin-stripe monk’s habit. “Let me through, please, I’m a lawyer. Right, then. You’re Benny, right?”

Benny looked at him. “Yes. Who are you?”

“My card.” The young man gave him a little rectangle of pasteboard. “John the Lawyer,” he said. “I work for your uncle.”

“Ah, right.” Benny frowned. “You’re here to read us our rights or something?”

John laughed. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t take me very long,” he said. “No, I’m just here to see to it that these gentlemen don’t kill you by mistake. I’m also authorised to make this lady and gentleman a very substantial cash offer, provided they go a long way away and stop making trouble. You are, of course, completely at liberty to refuse, but if you do…” he paused and smiled. “Have either of you made a will, by any chance? If not, I can do that for you right now, very sensible thing to do at any time, but in your current circumstances, I should say it’s essential.”

Buttercup looked at him. “Get stuffed,” she said.

“Mphm.” John nodded affably. “I’ll take that as a no. Is that in respect of the will, the offer of settlement, or both?”

He had something in his hand, Benny noticed; a sort of grey, flat something, roughly the size and shape of a mobile phone.
His
phone, the one he’d lost in the woods. He realised he was staring at it, and looked away.

“How about you?” John the Lawyer had moved away from Buttercup and was now obtrusively in Benny’s space. “Of course the settlement offer doesn’t apply to you and the need for a will isn’t nearly as urgent as it is for your friends, but I always say to clients, it’s never too early to think about testamentary dispositions and tax-efficient estate planning.”

Benny felt something sliding into his hand. It was a revolting feeling, like a spider running across his face. He kept perfectly still.

“Well, no need to decide right this minute, think about it and get back to me any time. Now then, Sir Turquine, isn’t it? How about you?”

Buttercup and Turquine were looking at John; hard to know what, if anything, the empty eye sockets of the Teeth were pointed at, but Benny decided to risk it. He glanced down at the phone in his hand, and on the screen he saw—

50/50 on suing Ur uncle Urside? Ur friends go free. Deal? Yes/No

He looked up. John looked back at him and grinned.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Benny said. “Yes, I’m definitely interested.”

“Splendid.” John the Lawyer smiled at him, then came across and took the phone from him. “In that case—” He pressed a button, put the phone to his ear, waited, then said, “Any time you’re ready.” Then he handed the phone back to Benny. “You three might care to hide behind something,” he added.

“You what?”

Same drill as before, only louder and much hotter; a fist of hot air sent Benny flying, and it was just as well that he hit a huge slab of dragon sirloin rather than the hard wall. It was snowing brick-sized chunks of rock, and the dragons’ teeth were just an untidy scatter on the floor. Oh, and there was now another hole in another wall, through which a column of terrifying looking monsters were rushing, led by an old man in a flat cap and a tall young man with a phone in one hand and a half-eaten slice of
quattro stagione
pizza in the other.

“Just to confirm.” John the Lawyer crawled out from under a large slab of dragon. “That is your phone, isn’t it?”

“What?” Benny’s eyes were glued to the advancing monsters. “Oh, yes, right. Yes, my phone.”

John nodded. “Thought so,” he said. “It was found in the young lady’s basket, and your uncle was kind enough to teach me how it works. Not at all magic, I gather.”

Benny turned and grabbed him two-handed by the throat. “Whose side are you on?”

“Mine, of course,” John said, gently but firmly removing Benny’s hands. “I’m a lawyer. Now then, do you know King Mordak?”

Mordak; the goblin. So these horrifying creatures were—“No. Look—”

“Then it’s high time you met. He’s your new best friend.” John moved smoothly past him and advanced on the biggest and ugliest of the goblins, hand extended. “Your Majesty,” he said. “Thank you so much for coming. My name is John the Lawyer, and this is Prince Florizel.”

Mordak’s face indicated that he felt about lawyers the way Benny did about goblins, which raised him considerably in Benny’s estimation. “You said there was something we needed to see,” he rasped, in a low voice that made Benny want to hide under the nearest bed. “Where is it?”

John smiled, apparently completely unfazed. Another advantage of his profession, presumably. “In just a moment, sir, if that’s all right.” He turned aside and smiled warmly at the old man in the cap. “Thanks ever so much,” he said. “It’s so nice when people are
punctual
.”

“My pleasure, sir,” the old man said, “and sorry about the mess. Art had to use C4, see, on account of gelignite isn’t stable coming through the transdimensional vortex. The wizard not arrived yet, then?”

(And not just the hunchbacked, warthog-tusked goblins, either; there were equally terrifying short men with huge beards and axes. One of them was offering the tall young man a slice of cake from a battered tin box. Good cake, too, judging by how quickly the young man ate it.)

“He should be here any moment now,” John replied. “I rang him just before we–ah, here he is. Over here, sir, if you’d be kind enough.”

Benny swung round, and his heart nearly stopped as he saw his Uncle Gordon, with an escort of a dozen dragons’ teeth, coming through the hole in the far wall. The Teeth tried to unshoulder their rifles, but there simply wasn’t time; they were engulfed in a sea of goblins. Ten seconds later, the thigh bone was disconnecka from the knee bone, the knee bone was disconnecka from the leg bone, and only infinite patience and the latest edition of Gray’s
Anatomy
would ever make sense of them again.

Mordak made a sound like two elephants disagreeing about politics, lifted his axe and advanced towards Uncle Gordon. A second later, Benny was horrified to realise he’d jumped up on the goblin’s back with his arms round his throat. Wondering how he’d got there, he let go, slid to the ground and said, “Please don’t hurt him, he’s my uncle.”

Mordak turned and glared at him. “So what?”

“He’s my uncle. Don’t hurt him. Besides, he can do magic.”

He’d made a valid point. What with goblins, dwarves, dragon carcasses and Buttercup, the cavern was getting quite crowded. If Uncle Gordon started casting anti-personnel spells, he’d die quickly but by no means alone.

“Instead,” John the Lawyer said, easing smoothly between them, “let’s negotiate.”

“Let’s not,” Mordak said. “That bastard tried to kill me.”

“Quite,” John said. “So, instead of just killing him, let’s make him
suffer
. Why just disembowel when you can litigate?”

Uncle Gordon laughed. “Sure,” he said. “See you in court. You haven’t got anything on me.”

John cleared his throat. It wasn’t a particularly loud noise, even when amplified by the cavern’s rather bizarre acoustics, but the dwarves and goblins fell silent and turned to look at him. “Actually,” he said, “that’s not entirely true. Gordon Gulbenkian, please accept this as formal notice that I shall be bringing an action against you for negligence, nuisance, breach of statutory duty, environmental pollution, attempted genocide and six thousand, nine hundred and forty-one separate violations of health and safety legislation. Without prejudice,” he added pleasantly. “How do you plead?”

Gordon gave him a long, cool look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Really? Cast your mind back. When you first came here, there were no such things as dwarves and goblins, were there?” He paused for an answer; none came and he went on: “I checked the Elven records. No goblins, no dwarves, just the Elves and a few humans they kept as
pets
.” He stopped, aware that his voice had changed. Then he went on as before. “Then you made a discovery. Under the mountain, you discovered a mineral; nothing of any interest to anyone here, but back where you come from, extremely valuable. Thanks to that extremely clever phone device you lent me, I was able to
find out a bit about it; information from your side of the divide, not ours. I’m still not quite sure I understand what it is your people want it for, but
naturally occurring plutonium
is quite rare where you come from, isn’t it? Rare, and valuable, and really rather dangerous. According to your clever machine, if you get too close to it, it does nasty things to you. If you’re around it for any length of time, it kills you. Isn’t that right?”