Simon Green - Property of a Lady Faire

“Oh, all right!” said Molly. She sat back on the coffin lid, stuck out her lower lip, and glowered at me. “I can remember when you were fun . . .” She looked around the baggage car some more, and a deep frown slowly etched itself between her eyebrows. “You know, Eddie, there is some seriously strange stuff in here. I’m picking up all kinds of magical emanations, leaking past a whole bunch of quite unusual wards and protections.”

“All the more reason not to go messing around with them,” I said.

“I’m just curious . . .”

“Oh, that is always a bad sign.”

Molly was already up off the coffin lid and on her feet again, staggering across the lurching floor to peer closely at this piece of luggage and that. She knelt down opposite a large hatbox and considered it thoughtfully. The hatbox had been sealed with all kinds of pretty ribbons, tied in really intricate bows, along with several lengths of delicate silver chain and one really heavy steel padlock.

“Molly . . . ,” I said warningly.

“I want it.”

“You don’t even wear hats!”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” said Molly, still staring intently at the hatbox. “How dare the world hide things from me . . .”

She snapped her fingers smartly, and the padlock flew open. I braced myself, ready to dive for cover, but nothing happened. Molly smiled sweetly, and pulled the silver chains away, dropping them casually on the floor beside her. She undid the pretty ribbons with nimble fingers, and then opened the lid. Only to immediately fall backwards onto her haunches, as a very large hat covered with all kinds of brightly coloured feathers flew up out of the box and fluttered vigorously around the baggage car. It bobbed this way and that and then flapped upwards, where it bounced back and forth along the curving wooden ceiling. The hat rose and fell and turned itself around, as the fluttering feathers tried to drive it in a dozen different directions at once. It seemed cheerful enough, for a flying hat.

Molly glared at it. “Get back in the box!”

The hat ignored her, flitting up and down the length of the baggage car at considerable speed, clearly having the time of its hatty life. And probably setting off all kinds of security alarms. I got up off the coffin, grabbed several small useful items and lobbed them at the hat, trying to bring it down. The hat avoided my efforts with almost insulting ease. Molly scrambled up off the floor and we pursued the thing up and down the carriage, while it fluttered back and forth, always just out of reach. The jolting floor didn’t help, throwing Molly and me all over the place. I crashed into some piled-up bags and sent them flying. A few broke open, spilling their contents across the sawdust floor. Clothes and books and assorted valuables, and one brass cage containing one very large black bat. The cage broke open on impact, and the bat saw its chance for freedom and took it. It flew swiftly back and forth, its leathery wings making a sound very like gloved hands clapping. And then the bat saw the hat, and went for it. The bat and the hat threw themselves at each other with clear mutual loathing, and not a little viciousness. They crashed together, spun round and round the carriage several times, and then separated, to regard each other ominously from a distance.

Molly lost her balance, and grabbed at the nearest shelf to steady herself. Her hand missed the shelf and fastened onto a bottle bearing a handwritten sign that said simply Gin . The bottle slipped out of her hand and smashed on the floor. A great cloud of purple smoke billowed up, taking on a vaguely human form, with a grinning bearded face at the top. Not Gin . Djinn . Nothing causes more damage than a bottle of cheap djinn. The gaseous figure quickly spread out to fill the whole carriage. It had enough physical presence to knock me off my feet and send me staggering backwards, until I crashed up against the far wall. I could just about see through the purple fumes to where Molly was pinned up against the opposite wall. Her arms flailed through the gassy body without doing any damage. The bat and the hat fluttered helplessly together, pressed against the ceiling. The giant bearded face grinned nastily, and piled on the pressure as it continued to expand.

“Get this thing off me!” yelled Molly. “I can’t move! It’s crushing me!”

I forced myself down the carriage wall, until I could crouch with my arse on the floor. I could hear the djinn laughing. I pushed myself forward until I was lying on the floor, and then I crawled forward on my belly, setting all my strength against the pressure of the djinn’s gaseous body, until I reached the sliding door set into the carriage wall opposite me. I tried to force it open, but it was locked shut. I armoured up my hand, smashed the lock with my golden glove, and gave the sliding door a good shove. The door flew open, and the djinn’s gassy body was sucked right out through the opening. I just caught a glimpse of a shocked and surprised bearded face, and then the djinn disappeared, sucked away and dispersed in the rushing wind.

The bat and the hat flew out after it. I waited till I was sure they were safely gone, and then sat down in the opening with my legs dangling over the side and watched the scenery rushing past. Molly came lurching forward, and sat down heavily beside me. She leaned against me companionably, as we both got our breath back, and then we just sat there together and enjoyed the world speeding past. It was very . . . scenic. An endless sea of snow, stretching away in all directions as far as the eye could see. Rising and falling but frozen in place, just a great expanse of gleaming white, without even a single tree or shrub to break the monotony.

“Where are we, exactly?” said Molly, after a while.

“Siberia,” I said. “Somewhere. It’s a big place. Covers a lot of ground.”

Molly shuddered. “Damn, it’s cold! I mean . . . really cold!”

“And this is just Siberia,” I said. “It’s going to be a whole lot colder once we pass through the Gateway into Ultima Thule.”

Molly looked down at her long white dress. “I’m really not dressed for the occasion, am I? Hold on while I break open the suitcases and have a good rummage round for something more suitable. Preferably with furry bits of dead animal attached.”

“I think we’ve let loose enough annoyances for one day, don’t you?” I said. “God alone knows what else they’ve got packed away in here.”

“Good point,” said Molly. “I’ll just find a passenger on the train who’s wearing something seriously furry, lure her to a quiet place, and then mug her. My need is greater.”

“How very practical,” I said.

Molly shuddered again from the cold, so I helped her to her feet and slammed the heavy sliding door back into place. I squeezed the lock shut with my golden glove, and then sent the armour back into my torc. I was shivering now too from the cold that had got into the baggage car, and my breath steamed on the air, along with Molly’s. We went back to the coffin and sat down, hugging ourselves tightly. Molly banged on the coffin lid.

“Are you awake, Count Magnus?”

“Can’t take you anywhere,” I said.

She glared at me. “Explain to me again why we’re having to do this the hard way?”

“Once more, then,” I said, “For the hard of learning at the back of the class. This train will carry us to a naturally occurring Gateway, somewhere in the snowy depths of sunny Siberia, and this Gate will in turn deliver us to Ultima Thule, the Winter Palace, and eventually, the Lady Faire.”

Molly sniffed loudly. “And how long is it going to take to reach this Gateway?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Hours, I should think.”