ISOF (6 page)

‘What's going on?' asked Ben tugging at Pinchkin's sleeve. ‘Is this what I'm late for?'

‘Sssh,' replied Pinchkin leaning into his ear. ‘It's not our turn yet. Be patient,' she ordered.

Ben tapped his feet and tried not to catch the eyes of the two creatures at the desk.

‘Number sixty-two,' echoed a voice.

Ben looked around but couldn't see who had spoken. He tugged once more at Pinchkin's sleeve.

‘What happened to number forty-eight?'

‘Stop asking questions,' she replied, and ushered him towards the desk.

As they approached the desk, Ben could see a large hairy globe bobbing up and down behind the desk. Pinchkin tapped on the desk and offered her ticket to the globe. Without warning a hand shot out, snatching the ticket as the globe tilted backwards to reveal the oddest face that Ben had ever seen. Looking directly at Ben was an extremely large eyeball that almost seemed to fill the surface of the globe. Arching over the eyeball lay what could only be described as a hairy smudge, that Ben assumed was an eyebrow. The eye blinked twice.

‘Yes, did you want something,' croaked the globe.

Pinchkin nudged Ben behind her.

‘Excuse the boy,' she apologised. ‘He's not from around here. A distant nephew on my brother's side of the family, an odd lot.'

The eye examined first the ticket and the Ben, who was busily trying to identify whether the eye had a mouth.

‘Room twelve,' grunted the globe. ‘Last door on the left, hurry along.'

Pinchkin took Ben by the elbow and pushed him away from the desk. Passing close to one of the creatures, he noticed that its eyes were positioned towards the side of its head, and the nose was nothing more than two small holes above a wide, protruding mouth containing rows of needle-like teeth. Ben stopped. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't seen anything quite like this before, although he thought he had seen something similar in his dad's shop.

The creature, aware of Ben's gaze, made a gargling sound in its throat.

‘Want to see the inside of your skull,' it rasped. ‘Be off with you, now.' It pointed towards the far end of the room. As it did so, Ben saw that the little white stones danced on its necklace with each movement of its mouth. Watching the stones, he suddenly realised that they were actually teeth. He grimaced. Seeing Ben's face, the creature made a high pitched gargling sound.

‘Like my trinkets boy? Would you like to add to my collection?' he asked, waving the tip of his spear very close to Ben's face.

Before the creature could add to his trinket collection, an agitated clicking broke out amongst the Goferats. Clustered together, the Goferats were bobbing up and down as a pair of Jaresh guards dragged another guard along the room by its feet. The guard seemed oblivious to its predicament and just grinned a dreamy, vacant smile. Ben turned to Pinchkin and nodded towards the scene.

‘Isn't that the creature with the massaged mind,' he began to ask. But Pinchkin simply shook her head, grabbed hold of Ben's collar and hauled him towards the far end of the room.

Eventually she stopped, put Ben down and wagged a finger in his face.

‘Don't ever be so stupid again. You'll get us both in trouble messing with them Jaresh guards and bringing unwanted attention upon yourself.' She pushed him towards a doorway. ‘In here quickly,' she ordered, giving him a push.

Surprised by the sudden push, Ben stumbled forward, his hands flailing about in front of him. A hand shot out, grabbed him and pushed him against a wall.

‘Stand there, don't move, don't fidget and don't speak until you're spoken to okay?' ordered a voice.

Stunned into silence, Ben stood where he was told while the hand walked swiftly towards a huge chair. Nervously looking around, Ben could see that he was in some sort of courtroom. Around the walls hung ornate tapestries of hunting scenes and festivals. Immediately to one side sat a group of important looking people sitting on an intricately carved wooden bench while in the gallery above crowds of local people gathered, chatting eagerly and pointing at the scene below.

The owner of the hand, a tall figure, dressed in a long sombre gown and wearing a dark silky hat with earflaps, bowed before the chair and spoke.

‘My Lord, the thief.' As he spoke the last two words, he swivelled, stepped to one side and pointed his finger towards Ben. The babble of voices rose to a crescendo as the accusation rang out.

‘Quiet!' shrilled a small, dumpy figure sat behind a large desk, a pen hovering over a large leather-bound book. The noise faded to a simmer as the figure, which Ben thought looked suspiciously like a pantomime understudy, took a slow look around the courtroom and then returned to its attention once more to the book. Ben smiled at the curious Humpty-Dumpty look-a-like.

‘See, my Lord,' declared the tall figure. ‘He sneers at the accusation. His face is a picture of contempt.'

Once more the crescendo of voices rose to a deafening roar. Ben tried vainly to make his voice heard amongst the crowd.

‘Quiet!' shouted the Humpty-Dumpty figure.

Everyone was quiet. Looking nervously around the room, Ben was aware of a sea of faces scrutinising him. Seated beneath a tapestry depicting a regal oak tree, with branches disappearing into the depths of the weave, was the Humpty-Dumpty figure draped in a maroon robe and wearing what Ben thought was a dead cat on its head. The figure beckoned him forwards.

‘Come here boy. Let me get a look at you.'

Ben approached the chair. Lord Tolc, or at least Ben assumed that this was Lord Tolc, peered at him closely and then nodded.

‘So,' said Lord Tolc. ‘You're the duck thief are you. Let me tell you boy...'

‘I had nothing to do with that,' spluttered Ben. ‘I didn't…'

Lord Tolc waved his hand in front of Ben.

‘Enough of your mumbling, boy. Where was I? Oh yes. Let me tell you…' Lord Tolc leant forward. ‘Look at me, boy when I'm speaking.'

Ben lowered his eyes from where he'd been tracing the various routes of the pictured oak branches.

‘I'm sorry,' he said half-heartedly. ‘I was distracted.'

Lord Tolc followed Ben's gaze.

‘Admiring our crest,' he observed. ‘The sacred oak is very precious to our people,' said Lord Tolc proudly. ‘It is a sign of strength and longevity, something that we Dilpends regard as a powerful symbol.'

‘Not quite so powerful now,' coughed the tall figure.

‘What's that you say?' snapped Lord Tolc.

‘I said,' replied the tall figure, ‘that the concept of longevity for both the sacred oak and our people is now somewhat of a myth.'

‘Balderdash!' exclaimed Lord Tolc bouncing on his chair with anger. ‘Explain yourself.'

‘My Lord,' fawned the tall figure. ‘I was merely attempting to point out that times have changed. We can no longer reflect on past glories but look to the future.'

‘Without history, we are nothing,' snapped Lord Tolc. ‘The sacred oak is a symbol of our past, our present and our future.'

The tall figure bowed slowly. ‘I must remind you, my Lord, that the oak is dead.'

Waving his finger accusingly at the tall figure, Lord Tolc eased himself from the chair and hopped, angrily from foot to foot.

‘Poisoned by those despicable Jaresh,' he fumed. ‘They've soiled our rivers, ravaged our forests and are a blight on our lives.'

The tall figure moved forward, his hands making soothing gestures. ‘Do remember your blood pressure, my Lord,' he crooned.

‘Blood pressure?' yelled Lord Tolc. ‘The Jaresh make my blood boil, that's what they do.' He turned to face Ben and raised his finger accusingly. ‘And why did you try to steal Smegglebert's ducks?'

‘But Sir,' mumbled Ben. ‘I really don't know what you mean. I was just doing what my Dad asked me when suddenly weird things began to happen and...'

Lord Tolc was busily waving his hands in front of Ben's face.

‘Infantile ramblings,' he growled. ‘I ought to have you thrown into the deepest dungeon and throw away the key.'

‘I'm not an infant and I'm not rambling,' replied Ben angrily. ‘It's all a simple mistake.'

‘Mistake?' snapped Lord Tolc. ‘Mistake you say? I'll tell you what was a mistake,' he continued. Taking a couple of steps towards Ben, Lord Tolc began wagging his finger directly at him. ‘Your mistake was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

‘I didn't have much choice,' began Ben before a hand clamped itself over his mouth. A powerful smell of freshly dug soil and apples assailed Ben's nostrils.

‘My Lord, forgive his lack of understanding,' smiled the voice. ‘He isn't familiar with our ways.'

The hand released its grip and Ben turned his head to see a tall youth with a sun-tanned face, wink at Ben and place a finger against its lips.

Lord Tolc sniffed noisily. ‘Children nowadays...'

‘I'm not a child I'm...' protested Ben.

The youth tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head.

‘Sorry,' mumbled Ben.

‘Eh? What's that you say? Speak up for goodness sake. Better still, be quiet and listen.' Lord Tolc brushed the sleeves of his pale blue jacket and coughed. ‘As I was saying, we Dilpends are a proud people and...'

The tall figure in the silky hat coughed.

‘My Lord, you've already explained.'

‘Explained?' asked Lord Tolc sternly. ‘I've hardly begun.'

As he talked, Lord Tolc began pacing up and down the aisle leading to his impressive chair. His ambles took him alongside the desk where the scribe was busily scribbling. Without a pause in his speech, he deftly removed the single flower from the vase that stood on the desk, and promptly drank the water. The scribe didn't bother to look up at Lord Tolc, but simply reached over to the flower and replaced it in the now empty vase. Lord Tolc, by this time heading back towards the chair, placed his thumbs on the edges of his robe and turned to face Ben.

‘So, what do you think, boy?'

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but had barely drawn breath when Lord Tolc began to pace the room once more.

‘You don't look much like a thief to me,' he said, waving an arm dismissively. The tall figure placed his hand to his mouth and gave a polite cough. His bushy grey eyebrows danced as he spoke.

‘My Lord,' he began. ‘Are we certain we have a thief in our midst, or,' he paused theatrically and then extended a robed arm towards Ben. ‘An infiltrator!'

Voices shouted from every side of the room. Fists were shaken at Ben and several people mimed a noose being placed around their neck and pulled tightly. Ben looked around the room searching frantically for PInchkin, but she was nowhere to be seen. Lord Tolc raised both arms in the air and, as he lowered them, the hubbub of noise faded.

‘However,' he said above the quietening crowd. ‘We can't be too careful. Walls have ears you know.' He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Eyes and spies everywhere, and we can't have the Jaresh knowing what we're up to.'

This had to be a bad dream, Ben thought to himself. Absolutely nothing make sense and he hadn't had a chance to say anything in his defence. The tall figure smiled maliciously at Ben.

‘My Lord, perhaps we should invite the boy to make amends for any damage he's caused and…'

‘Jolly good idea,' interrupted Lord Tolc. ‘How much you got boy? You young ens' always got more money than sense I always say.'

The tall figure coughed again.

‘My Lord, if I may be so bold?'

‘Eh? What you on about? Spit it out Cedric before you burst a blood vessel.' He winked at Ben. ‘That Cedric's a bit of a prune but he's on our side, I think.'

Cedric raised his eyes to the roof.

‘My Lord, I was referring to our little expedition that we have planned.' He sniffed haughtily and nodded in Ben's direction. ‘It might prove useful to have the infiltrator under observation and allow him to contribute to our mission.'

‘Splendid idea,' beamed Lord Tolc. ‘I was just about to suggest the very same thing.' He brushed at the virtually invisible moustache that crept along his top lip. ‘Now, to the point,' he said, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees. He looked straight ahead and spoke to Ben's stomach.

‘Where have you gone? Stop messing about.' He tipped his head back and looked up at Ben.

‘What you doing up there?'

Ben crouched down.

‘It's where I am normally,' he answered, thankful to have had a chance to speak.

Lord, tugged at Ben's collar. ‘Now boy,' he whispered, as his hand continued to pull at Ben's collar. ‘What do you know about girls?'

‘What?' spluttered Ben, his face discolouring from the continued pressure of Lord Tolc's grip.

‘Well?' demanded Lord Tolc, with almost a complete handful of Ben's collar. ‘Answer me!'

By this time, Ben had sagged onto his knees, his hands desperately trying to relieve the pressure from his throat.

‘My Lord,' began Cedric, as a strangulated gurgle erupted out of Ben's mouth. ‘If I might be so bold as to suggest?' Without waiting for a response, Cedric loosened the grip on Ben's collar and began to casually brush at Lord Tolc's sleeves. ‘There,' he said in a voice laden with syrup. ‘Much better.'

‘What are you doing down there, boy?' asked Lord Tolc, as Ben, still on his knees, gulped air like a fish. ‘Get up and stop messing about.'

Ben, his eyes partially closed, swallowed and rubbed gently at his throat. Taking a couple of short steps forward, Lord Tolc bent down towards Ben's ear. ‘I want you to keep an eye out for a girl,' he began.

‘I'm not sure what you mean,' mumbled Ben, his face turning puce.

‘Mean?' bellowed Lord Tolc directly into Ben's ear. Aware that everyone was now listening intently to what he said, Lord Tolc pressed his nose against Ben's ear. ‘My daughter,' he hissed. ‘And, when you see her, no messing about,' he jabbed a finger into Ben's shoulder. ‘She's precious to me.'