The Sorcerer of Wands: Azabar's Icicle Part 2 Page 3

  “It’s unfair,” said Bliss to him as they ported an Adventurine cod out of Ernie Hobbs storeroom in the Disc-Man Centre. Adventurine cod was about ten feet long and so best moved on a trolley. It tasted like normal cod, only more so. With a bit of butter and bread it was a treat. Must be a devil to reel in on the line though, thought Aden.

  He took the front of the trolley, his friend the rear. “I mean,” continued Bliss, “we were two years in jail for stealing jewels we didn’t, and now Sardohan is making us unpopular in our own city by giving us money people think is some sort of payment. I’ve a good mind to buy a gold piece worth of horse manure and stick it on the Dazarian Embassy doorstep.”

  Aden steered the trolley towards the Disc-Man Centre exit.

  “Then we’d end up in prison again. We can’t win against their sort.”

  “We will when the police tie him in to the smuggling of Yeccozin. I’m sure Saib’s got nothing to do with it. Sardohan is the danger to Haverland Gnashlok hinted at.”

  Aden pictured the caskets of yellow powder taken from the Grey Hind and frowned. “I can imagine Saib getting the blame even if he hasn’t got anything to do with it; Sardohan’s very crafty.”

  The Disc-Man Centre was next to the Disc-Man Academy. The Centre was where jumps took place to other worlds and where warehouses stored the product of transactions.

  Aden and Bliss wheeled the cod past the warehouses. A swarm of merchants, porters and traders went about their business. A drizzle fell on the brick surface of the centre and the air swam with exotic scents.

  Across from the grid of warehouses, behind a gate manned by policemen, lay the buildings where the disc-men jumped from.

  Each building was large enough to house the jump point itself, and a detachment of soldiers, administration staff, diplomats, and the like. Each building was built in a style reflecting the world linked to it, from the multi roofed Adventurine building to the cable supported, almost web like, mansion of Arachnie. Most of these buildings even had that precious invention, glass, in their window frames.

  Aden wondered what sort of style building their Disc-Artefact would have. Of course, they didn’t actually have to have a building here. An artefact would jump to its destination point from anywhere; but, for the sake of security and trade, it would be best if, one day, they had their own building here. What sort of materials could be traded from their world to this, wondered Aden? Thoughts for the future, he realized. First he and Bliss needed to explore the world.

  They came to a stop at the gate between the rest of the Disc-Man Centre and the wider city; they waited as one of the steam billowing diplomats of Argent passed through the gate, accompanied by the toy trader, Theodore Stig.

  Aden showed the policeman his market-pass and the two friends wheeled the cod out of the centre, onto Portal Street, moving towards a short-cut, Marchant row. Passing gleaming buildings belonging to the sort of people who would never have visited their market, the two reached Marchant Row and headed down towards Connections lane. Both friends gripped the trolley with care, for the steepness of the Row meant the trolley would leave them behind if it were allowed to move on its own.

  “I’m sure six of Marti’s skeletons holding this between them, with me giving orders from a safe distance, would be easier,” said Bliss, her voice strained, as she held tightly onto the trolley and glanced down the steep hill.

  “I’m sure Hacknor would use the skeletons as porters, too, if Marti proved they worked. Trouble is he’d save money by getting rid of us.”

  “We’re cheap. It’s the adult Porters he’d get rid of first.”

  “Oh look at this,” dripped a voice coming from Hobb’s corner store doorway, just after the friends passed it. “The oiks our father wasted gold on. Moving a big cod too, always said there was something fishy about them.”

  With a grunt, Aden dug his heels in and brought the trolley to a stop. He looked up the hill, a few yards, to where Alicia and her sisters stepped onto the pavement. She stared down at him with an imperious smile. Ever since he’d declined her offer to show him how to dress like gentleman on his first day back to Haverland and had made it clear he and Bliss weren’t rich thieves, she’d made every effort to be as unpleasant to them as possible. Normally, he ignored her but today there was something on his mind.

  “Your dad wouldn’t meet us about those gold coins he gave Bliss and me. If he did, he could have cleared up any misunderstanding. People are imagining we’ve done all sorts of things to earn them.”

  Alicia’s nose rose into the air. “My father doesn’t need to speak to you. People like you bring misunderstandings on yourself. Two years in jail should have taught you as much.”

  Her sisters giggled.

  Bliss struggling to hold the trolley, twisted her body, just enough to catch them in the edge of her vision.

  “Your father gave us those coins to cause mischief. He’s nothing but a troublemaker.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. One day though, he’s going to put a foot wrong and end up in prison.”

  Alicia sneered in a way that made Aden’s jaw clench.

  “Oh, and I suppose you’ll put him there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you got time? I hear you have lots to do on the market these days. Judging by the way you’re moving the cod, you’ll do them slowly.”

  Bliss bristled.

  “I don’t do anything slowly.”

  Aden realised Alicia was deliberately baiting his friend.

  “Ignore her Bliss. Come on we have the cod to deliver. ”

  Alicia taunted Bliss further.

  “My father wanted a new cabinet the other day; he was going to put the carpentry order in with your dad, Todd. God knows you need the money. The Embassy staff told my father to try someone else, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the cabinet until next Christmas on account of your dad working so slow.”

  Bliss whirled to face the girls, the full weight of the trolley transferred to Aden.

  “Liar, you take that back!”

  Bliss marched up towards the girls, her hands clenched.

  Aden strained to hold the trolley. He was below it on the hill and the weight of it and the cod bore down on him as Bliss let go. He kicked at the wheel brakes but they flapped in a broken sort of way. It was typical of Hacknor to be to stingy to the point of letting market equipment fall out of repair, thought Aden. He shifted his footing and gritted his teeth. If the steering part of the trolley had been at his end, he could have twisted the wheel axel against the direction of the hill; but it wasn’t. Aden realised he wouldn’t be able to hold the thing much longer without Bliss’s help.

  “Bliss… trolley!” He gasped.

  Bliss was confronting Alicia: “My father is a fast carpenter!”

  “Bliss!” shouted Aden as the weight of the trolley pushed him step by step down the hill. In moments it was too late, his muscles ached and weakened and the weight of the trolley became too much. He leapt to one side, crashing heavily to the floor and the trolley rattled away.

  “BLISS!”

  Bliss turned at Aden’s half shout half scream, her jaw dropping in horror as she realized the consequences of confronting Alicia. Aden watched his friend race to the trolley. Reaching it Bliss grabbed the handle; however its momentum jerked her off her feet and dragged her a distance before she was forced to let go.

  Aden pushed himself to a standing position. He watched the trolley gradually pick up speed. His elbows and knees hurt from his fall, but still he started to run after the trolley. Bliss struggled to her feet too, a look of chagrin on her face.

  Aden heard Alicia and her sisters laugh from behind him.

  Ignoring his bruises, Aden raced past the quaint cottages after the trolley. Bliss joined him. The thing picked up speed as it rumbled down Marchant Row.

  A huddle of women heard its trundle and leaped out of the way; they clutched their handbags to their chests and shrieked.

  The tro
lley sped on, increasing in speed. Aden hoped it would tumble over and crash, but it didn't. Aden and Bliss ran by the women, ignoring their complaints. The trolley reached the floor of the short hill where Marchant Row intersected with Connections Lane. It sped across the cobbles of Connections Lane, the cod jiggling on its platform. A horse reared and neighed; the mouths of occupants in a passing carriage, dropped.

  A low stonewall separated Connections Lane from Marchant Park and the trolley crashed into the wall with thunderous clatter. The Adventurine Cod, full of momentum, slid off the trolley, flew over the wall, and skimmed across the rain soaked grass - the reflected sun sparkling against its scales.

  Aden and Bliss only three quarters down Marchant Row were gasping. They watched as the fish slid like a blob of butter on a hot plate straight into the nearby Marchant Park Lake.

  Two fishermen, eyes cast in the direction of their fishing rods, didn’t see the gaping mouth at first, or hear the four hundredweight of prime cod-fillet behind it, as it came down the hill. When the trolley hit the wall and then the fish surged into the lake, it was too late. With expressions of horror, they dived for their lives as the cod smashed through the planks of the boat, taking it a distance, before coming to a stop.

  The boat and cod began to sink.

  Aden and Bliss arrived, puffing and panting beside the crashed trolley. They cringed as the two anglers heaved themselves from the lake, looking like a pair of drowned rats.

  “Oh heck,” said Bliss, “we’re for it now.”

  “What in God’s name do you think you were doing!” shouted Hacknor, as both friends stood in his office later. He wore the white faced, narrowed eye kind of look reserved for the most serious misdemeanour’s.

  “You’ve ruined an expensive Adventurine cod; you’ve destroyed a rowing boat and given two fishermen the fright of their lives. You argued with the daughter to the Ambassador of Dazarian and almost knocked over the women of the Marchant Women’s Institute. You have totally ruined the reputation of the porters and the market.

  Aden thought Hacknor was exaggerating; however, an Adventurine cod, put into their care, was under the water lilies of Marchant Park Lake and somewhere nearby lay a holed fishing boat.

  “Alicia started it,” said Bliss.

  Hacknor gave her a look for disgust.

  “Don’t blame this on that poor girl. Someone of your station shouldn’t even be talking to someone of Miss Alicia’s station, never mind arguing with her.”

  This was the way Hacknor thought, realized Aden. No amount of argument would change things. To Hacknor’s eyes they were on the bottom of the pile and people like the Sardohan’s, on the top. The top of the pile did right, the bottom, wrong. End of story. He cleared his throat.

  “We’re sorry.”

  “Sorry! Sorry! Look at this.”

  Hacknor pointed at the newspaper on his desk. It was the Afternoon Herald, and on the front was an artist’s depiction of the fish sinking the rowing boat, along with the headlines ‘Cod 1 Fisherman 0’.

  Aden groaned.

  “Laughing stock, that’s what we are, a laughing stock and that’s just in the newspapers. The ‘Wall’ is suggesting Haverland is at threat from a contamination to its water supplies and this was your first disastrous attempt.”

  Aden looked into Hacknor’s eyes. Surely, he wasn’t one of those who believed everything the Wall said.

  “Our attempt? Our attempt! The Wall’s saying we’re the Threat to Haverland?”

  “Yes!”

  Aden’s head swam with the irony of it all.

  “Hacknor, you know what the Wall’s like; it makes up its news from the gossip it hears. Just because a few dozen of Haverland’s biggest busy-bodies have decided that Bliss and I are behind the threat to the city that WE warned about, doesn’t make it true!”

  Hacknor’s face pulled into scorn and he jabbed a finger at Aden.

  “Any publicity is bad publicity… and who knows, perhaps the Wall's got it right this time. It’s not always wrong in what it says.”

  Bliss stuck her chin out.

  “What grokkin rubbish. Anyway, if you want to look for threats I can’t think of a better place than your high and mighty ambassador friend.”

  “Sardohan?”

  “Yes.”

  Hacknor's jaw clamped shut and he drew himself to his full height and slammed his palm on the table before him.

  “How dare you! To think he gave you gold coins as a gesture of goodwill.”

  “He gave us those to cause mischief and you must know that.”

  Hacknor’s lip curled and he sat heavily in his chair. The look of contempt he gave the friends cut right through Aden.

  “Oh, really, Mister Know-it-All Todd... mischief was it? Well, I have taken the liberty of talking to Mr. Sardohan about the coins: he said it was in the way of a compensation for him trying to convict you for stealing the Disc-Artefacts. He has been in contact with the Dazarian authorities and apparently, it has all been a mix up. Those artefacts you found are from Haverland, defectives stolen long ago and stored by thieves, later recovered by the Dazarian authorities. The Governor of the prison, Tanest, was keeping them safe until they could be returned here, which they all now have been.”

  “They’ve returned them all?” said Aden, confused.

  “Ask your policeman friend, the next time you see him. Sardohan gave those gold coins to compensate you for the difficulties caused by all this. Yet all you do is argue with his daughter and speak badly of him.”

  Bliss was having none of it.

  “We speak badly about him, Hacknor, because bad is what Sardohan is. He made a hell of a fuss about us having those Disc-Artefacts and tried to have the Captain of the Grey Hind turn round and take us back to Dazarian. That was on the back of speaking to Tanest about the loss of the artefacts. If the artefacts were just dud, why didn’t Tanest tell Sardohan back then? Now all of a sudden he’s saying he’s sorry and giving us gold coins; well, why couldn’t he have done it discreetly? Why did he have to do it in a way which made Aden and I look sneaky? I’ll tell you why, because he wanted to cause trouble.”

  “Trouble! He tried to help you and you’ve just moaned about it like you moan about everything else.”

  “That’s rot, Hacknor. If he were any other Dazarian ambassador, you’d have smelt a rat as soon as you saw those gold coins. Let’s face it, anyone who has buckets of money and sometimes invites you to posh balls is someone you suck up to. That’s how Sardohan treats you and he could open the Haverland gates to the Dazarian goblin hordes and you’d still defend him.”

  Hacknor’s jaw clenched again, and his face went red and the veins on his temples swelled. Aden thought he was going to shout the building down. However, he did not. He took a deep breath, calmed himself and massaged between his eyes.

  “You know. I used to have high hopes for you two. You were once friendly and helpful children. I imagined you would grow up to be decent citizens with a stall of your own. What’s happened to you?”

  Neither Aden nor Bliss replied. Aden could see Bliss was still fuming.

  “I should fire you both on the spot; but, I’m aware your grandfather died the other day, Bliss. I am not prepared to have your parents’ hearts broken any further at this time. Therefore, you will give one gold coin to Ernie Hobbs to pay for the loss of the cod and one to the anglers to pay for the loss of the boat; then this incident will be settled. But this is your last chance ever, one more little thing and your out.”

  Bliss snorted.

  “One gold coin each! One gold coin could pay for the boat and the cod.”

  Hacknor leaned forward and his voice was cold:

  “Didn’t you just hear me? This is your very last chance.”

  Bliss appeared about to argue; but, she paused, let out a sigh, dropped her head, and nodded. Hacknor continued with the punishment, counting the points off on his fingers.

  “A gold coin each to re-establish the reputation of the porters
and the market. Also, you work for free, this weekend, on the ambassador’s garden party to make amends to me personally.”

  This weekend, thought Aden? This weekend Bliss and he were going to make their expedition to the distant green squares on their disc-world. He’d been thinking of little else.

  “But this weekend we’re...”

  Aden tried to think how he could word such an activity without giving the game away with regards their Disc-Artefact.

  Hacknor’s eyes narrowed as he watched Aden struggle for words.

  “You’re what?”

  The friends would have to leave the expedition to another next weekend.

  “Nothing.”

  “Good. So it’s agreed then, your punishment; two gold pieces payment and this weekend working?”

  The friends nodded in agreement.

  “Now get out of my sight,” said Hacknor.

  They went to Bliss’s home, dejected.

  Supper was a quiet affair; everyone made an effort not to mention the deceased Grandfather’s name, because it still brought Martha Todd out in tears.

  Bliss and Aden did not want this morning’s ‘cod’ events brought to light, but the family would find out anyway. Therefore, they gave a brief explanation.

  “Don’t you think we don’t have enough to worry about, without you two nearly getting sacked from the market!” remarked Arthur Todd, with an uncharacteristic snarl.

  “It was Alicia Sardohan…,” began Bliss, but Granddad Todd caught her eye and shook his head in a ‘not now’ kind of way.

  Aden wondered if anything would go their way. He half expected to find nothing but strange weeds when he and Bliss finally made the journey to the distant green they’d spotted on their desert disc-world.

  Then there was Grimus Spalding; the man had kindly offered them employment when they’d arrived off the Grey Hind. It’d be just their luck that they get sacked by Hacknor in the next week or two, go to Grimus and he tells them they’re too late and he’s given over tending the jewellery shop to other lads.

  Aden picked at the potatoes on his plate and hoped the ground would open up and swallow him when a rap on the door broke into his dark mood.