Jasper Fforde - The Song of the Quarkbeast

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ began Perkins, ‘for this test I will set four distant and very separate dogs barking. But to dispel the notion of chance, you may choose the direction from which the dogs are to bark, and the size of the dog.’

‘Can I choose first?’ asked the Useless Brother, who was suddenly interested.

‘Of course,’ said Lord Tenbury, ‘you are the Minister of Infernal Affairs, after all.’

‘I am, aren’t I?’ Ruprecht said, pleased with himself, looking out over the battlements and waving a finger in the direction of the kitchens. ‘I choose a chihuahua, and from over there.’

Perkins concentrated for a moment, and pointed two fingers in the direction Ruprecht had indicated. Almost immediately, there came the sharp bark of a small dog, somewhere quite far away, and from the direction he had indicated.

‘That’s one,’ said Boo.

‘A Great Dane,’ said Blix, ‘from there.’

A moment later, there came the unmistakable deep, gruff tones of a large dog. The sound was so distant that if there had not been a breeze to bring it to our ears, we may not have heard it at all. Perkins was doing well, and the bark of a cocker spaniel next up was a similarly expert piece of spelling. If it had been any closer it would not have been distant, and if it had been ten feet farther away, we would not have heard it at all.

‘A bull terrier,’ I said, for it was my turn to choose the final dog, ‘from over there.’

Perkins was relaxed and on a roll. His magic licence was in the bag. Nothing, I thought, could stop us now. He had raised his index fingers to cast his final spell when there was a sharp cough from behind us. We turned to find a footman dressed in full livery with embroidered jacket, tight red breeches, stockings and a wig. He held a staff which he struck twice on the ground, announcing in a shrill voice:

‘His Gracious Majesty, King Snodd IV!’

Everyone but the Useless Brother and Boo knelt as the King walked out on to the flat roof where we were standing. He was on his own, or more accurately, he had so few courtiers, hangers-on and advisers that he might as well have been alone – I counted an astonishingly low dozen, which was normal when the King was in a solitary frame of mind. Snodd’s ridiculously high staffing levels were not unusual within the royalty of the Ununited Kingdoms. He reputedly needed four valets to take a bath, and a minimum of two to go to the loo. One to hold the toilet paper and the other to . . . well, I’m sure you get the picture.

It was Tenbury who spoke first.

‘Your Highness,’ he said, ‘you bless us with your presence.’

‘I do rather, don’t I?’ he replied.

The King was a youthful-looking forty, and was in annoyingly good health for those who thought it might be better for all concerned if he would drop dead and let his wife, the considerably less militaristic and more diplomatic Queen Mimosa, take over. One of the few acts of civil disobedience within the Kingdom in recent years had been a march in support of Queen Mimosa having greater control in government. The King was prepared to use water cannon, riot police and tear gas, until Queen Mimosa stepped in herself and told the marchers to ‘return home and be patient’, something that they did, much to the King’s astonishment and annoyance – he’d not used his riot police for a while and thought they needed some practice.

‘I heard my good friend Jennifer Strange was in the castle,’ said the King, ‘and I just – why is that woman not grovelling or averting her eyes in my presence?’

Everyone looked up from where they were kneeling.

‘This is the Once Magnificent Boolean Smith, Your Majesty, the magic test adjudicator and recently appointed Beastmaster.’

‘What happened to Hugo?

‘He came off worse in an argument with a Tralfamosaur.’

He stared at Boo again and took two steps forward to remonstrate with her.

‘Now listen here, good lady, I am the . . .’

His voice trailed off as he fell into the inky blackness of her eyes.

‘Lumme,’ he said, ‘I have the queerest feeling that I’m drowning.’

‘Not yet,’ replied Once Magnificent Boo in an ominous tone, ‘but you shall, and in mud, deserted by those you thought were friends.’

There was a difficult pause as the King and his courtiers took this in. The fact that there was a pause rather than an instant contradiction seemed to suggest not only that the King thought this a feasible demise, but his attendants did too.

‘Now listen here—’

‘Your Majesty should forgive a respected ex-enchantress her eccentricities,’ said Tenbury in a soothing tone, and whispered something in the King’s ear.

‘Indeed,’ said the King, ‘all may rise, since we are friends together.’

We got to our feet, the King cleared his throat and, ignoring Boo, began again.

‘I heard my good friend Jennifer was in the castle and I popped by to say “wotcha”.’

I was immediately suspicious. The King never ‘popped’ by anywhere, rarely said ‘wotcha’ and was definitely not a friend.

‘Come here, child,’ said the King, and I approached cautiously. The last time we had met he had me put in jail for daring to meddle in his plans to invade the Duchy of Brecon. Thankfully, ‘averting a war with pacifist aforethought’ couldn’t be found anywhere on the statute books so I was released after two weeks of half-rations and a single sheet to sleep under in a damp cell without natural light. To anyone else it might have been unbearable, but after being brought up by the Blessed Ladies of the Lobster, it was really quite relaxing. I’d not slept so well for months.

‘Good afternoon, Your Majesty,’ I said, curtsying. ‘How best can I serve you?’

When I was a Dragonslayer I could do more or less what I wanted, but now I was simply an agent at Kazam and a loyalish subject of the King I had to be more careful. With despots it was always best to flatter and say ‘yes’ as often as possible. The King smiled, revealing a set of ridiculously white teeth. He wore a monocle and was thought of as handsome for a member of the royalty, and slightly like a weasel if he’d been anyone else. He had a silly habit of always wearing a crown, and lots of scarlet and ermine.

‘I have decided that I should take this Mystical Arts nonsense with more seriousness than I have in the past,’ he announced, ‘and now the power of your old-fangled “magic” is arising once more, I must have a dedicated wizard at court in order to see how best the nation’s newest asset can be efficiently exploited.’

He thought for a moment.

‘I mean, ‘how magic can best be used to serve the people’. What do you think?’

‘I think that the Mystical Arts are best independent,’ I replied. ‘They should serve no one in particular, and be beholden to no—’

‘You are but a child,’ he said patronisingly, ‘simplistic and unversed in the way of the world. What do you say, All Powerful Blix?’

I thought of mentioning that he was simply ‘the Amazing Blix’ but then this whole thing seemed to have a certain degree of stage management about it. There had been negotiations behind my back, and right now I was not guiding events, but their passenger.

‘I think that is a fine idea, sire,’ said Blix obsequiously. ‘Your Gracious Majesty has a responsibility to better promote this new power for the betterment of the Ununited Kingdoms.’

‘I could not have put it better myself and did,’ said the King, turning back to me. ‘You are appointed to the post, Mr Blix. Miss Strange, can I rely upon Kazam to afford all help that Court Mystician All Powerful Blix requires?’