The Wings of Ruksh (6 page)

It wasn’t until after breakfast the following morning, however, that the MacArthur, Lord Rothlan and the Sultan got down to the
serious
business of the visit. Gathered round an old mahogany table in a panelled room, they started their discussions while everyone else waited, albeit somewhat anxiously, in the Great Hall, wondering what was being said and what plans were being laid.

With a flap of his wings, Amgarad perched happily on Clara’s shoulder as she followed Lady Ellan, Neil and her mother to Arthur’s cave where the dragon lay lazily on his glittering mound of fabulous treasure. He hissed a gentle welcome to Mrs MacLean as she and Clara scrambled up beside him. Clara urged her mother to rest against one of the dragon’s arms while she sat uncomfortably on the treasure itself. Amgarad hopped onto the open lid of a huge box, spilling with golden sovereigns.

“Now we’ll choose a firestone for you, Janet,” Lady Ellan said, looking round thoughtfully. She rummaged among the treasure and picked out a particularly beautiful firestone from amongst the glowing scatter of emeralds, diamonds and rubies. “I should have given you one earlier but, quite frankly, none of us thought you’d ever need it.”

“Thank you, thank you very much!” Mrs MacLean said, holding it up delightedly so that the torchlight made it gleam. “I’ll get John to put it on a chain for me like he did with the others. Otherwise, I might lose it.” She looked at it wonderingly and again smiled her thanks before placing it carefully in a
zippered
compartment in her handbag. “Will I …” she asked shyly, “will I be able to call a magic carpet with it, like the others do?”

“Yes, of course,” came the immediate reply. “When we go back to the Great Hall, I’ll choose one specially for you.”

“That’ll be fab!” said Clara. “Then I can see my carpet at the same time.”

Arthur scrambled off his pile of treasure to accompany them and by the time they reached the Great Hall, they found several MacArthurs already starting to set the tables for lunch, carrying wicker baskets full of cutlery, plates and glasses. Near the dais, where the MacArthur usually sat, Sir James and the Ranger lounged on cushions, chatting idly to Archie, Hamish and Jaikie.

“What I don’t understand,” Sir James was saying to Archie as they approached, “was how MacGregor managed to find the Turkish restaurant at all, far less have dinner there.”

“I’d say,” Jaikie chipped in, “that the Turks were fishing. We put a strong protective shield round Arthur’s Seat the moment we found they were in town you see, and when they found they couldn’t get near us,
I
think they tried to catch whoever they could.”

Archie nodded. “You’re probably right,” he agreed. “Although he doesn’t realize it, MacGregor still has a lot of magic in him. If he hadn’t, he’d never have been able to see the sign in the first place, far less get into the restaurant.”

“But he couldn’t find it afterwards, when he went looking for it,” objected the Ranger.

“They probably just made it invisible to him,” Archie shrugged. “By then, they’d have realized that he was of no use to them. They couldn’t have known, though, that he’d tell
you
about the restaurant.” He nodded sagely. “They struck lucky there, actually, for you proved a different kettle of fish entirely.
You
, after all, were wearing firestones! Aye, their gamble paid off in the end,” he said smiling wryly.

“We were lucky, too,” muttered Sir James, his eyes turning to the tunnel that led to the room where the talks were being held. “If Rothlan hadn’t been watching the Turks through his crystal — well, at this moment in time we would probably still be stuck in Turkey with the Sultan.”

Lady Ellan’s eyes followed his glance as she approached the
dais. “Are they still talking?” she queried. “I was hoping some news might have leaked out.”

Jaikie shook his head. “Not a thing so far,” he answered, “but by my reckoning, they ought to be out pretty soon.”

“How on earth do you work that out?” asked Ellan.

Jaikie grinned. “Your father must be onto his third pipe by now and after the fourth, I doubt if there’ll be any air left to breathe in there!”

“Let’s hope they won’t be much longer, then,” she said,
smiling
appreciatively, for her father’s addiction to a foul-
smelling
pipe had long been a source of argument between them. “Actually, we’re just going to the back of the hall to choose a carpet for Mrs MacLean. Call me when there’s any news, won’t you!”

Neil and Clara clapped their hands twice when they reached the side of the cave where hundreds of magic carpets were stacked in neat rolls against the wall. Immediately, two carpets unrolled themselves swiftly and sailed gracefully towards them. Clara patted hers gently and felt the carpet ripple with
pleasure
. Lady Ellan, too, stroked it fondly. Patterned in an intricate design of red and blue, it had been her carpet as a child and she had chosen it specially for Clara when she had first come into the hill. Now she looked for another and, in the end, selected one with a pattern of birds and flowers for Mrs MacLean.

“There, Janet,” she said kindly, “this will be your carpet from now on. Remember, though, you have to be wearing your
firestone
to call it.

“Can I call it now?”

“Yes, of course,” Ellan smiled. “Clap your hands together twice, say ‘carpet’ and it will come to you.”

Mrs MacLean clapped her hands briskly, said “carpet” and watched excitedly as her carpet rose to hover in front of her.

“Why don’t you fly round the hall for a while,” suggested Lady Ellan. “Until the meeting finishes, we’ve really nothing else to do.”

“Good idea,” Neil said delightedly, grinning at Clara as his mother climbed onto her carpet and set off round the vast hall. “It’s been ages since we last flew on the carpets! I’d forgotten how totally fab it is. Mind out, Arthur! Here I come!”

Clara nodded in agreement as she scrambled onto hers and prepared to follow her mother round the hall. “I wish we could have another adventure like the last one,” she called to Neil. “Life at the moment seems … I don’t know … just plain dull!”

Neil grinned at her and felt the same old feeling of
excitement
thrill through him as his carpet zoomed through the air. Clara was right. Life
had
been dull of late; nothing but school, school and more school. Now he sat, tense and alert, on the magic carpet and as he whizzed madly round Arthur, he
somehow
knew that another adventure was on the way.

Had Neil been listening to Hamish and Archie’s conversation, he would have been even more convinced that another
adventure
was in the offing, for Archie was telling Sir James and the Ranger of the strange meeting between Prince Kalman and the Frenchman.

“I think your French count must be Louis de Charillon,” Sir James said, thoughtfully. “I’ve met him once or twice, as it happens. In fact, I’ll be seeing him in a few days time. The Scottish Parliament is hosting a grouse shoot for diplomats at the weekend and I noticed his name on the list. De Charillon is the French Consul.”

“Yes, we gathered that,” nodded Hamish. “We followed him back to Randolph Crescent and saw the French flag hanging over his door. The police had to escort him in, you know, for there were crowds of fishermen protesting outside. That Trade Union fellow, Jimmie Leadbetter, was the leader and the
language
he was using was something terrible.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Sir James grimly. “Feelings are
running
high at the moment. But you said you were watching a house … in Moray Place, did you say?”

“Yes,” Hamish smiled, “as pigeons, of course!”

“Actually, I know someone who lives there … but go on …”

“We knew it had to be Kalman,” Hamish said seriously. “If he hadn’t put a protective shield round his house we might never have noticed, but it warned us that something was going on. So we kept watch and that’s how we picked up on the French Consul fellow.”

“The strangest thing of all,” interrupted Archie, “was that when he went into the house, he called Prince Kalman, ‘Mr
Stuart’.”

Sir James choked.

“Are you all right, Sir James?” said Archie, looking
concerned
.

Sir James choked again, so utterly flabbergasted that he could barely speak. “He called Prince Kalman
what!?
” he spluttered.

“Mr Stuart,” repeated Archie.

“You … you
must
be joking!” Sir James was appalled. “If it’s the Stuart I’m thinking of, he couldn’t
possibly
be Prince Kalman.”

Archie frowned. “It was
definitely
the prince,” he said, looking at Sir James strangely. “We felt his magic, you see. It couldn’t be anyone else.”

“Was he tall, with long, fair hair tied at the back of his neck?”

Hamish nodded. “And he was wearing a brocade waistcoat under his suit.”

“That’s the man,” breathed Sir James. “Good Lord! Ned Stuart! A magician!” He shook his head in wonder. “I really can’t believe it!”

“Do you know him then?” asked Archie curiously.

“
Know
him?” Sir James breathed hard. “
Know
him! Of course, I know him! He’s an MSP, isn’t he? A Member of the Scottish Parliament!” He ran his hands distractedly through his hair. “And you’re telling me that he’s Prince Kalman! How can he possibly be Prince Kalman?”

Hamish smiled sourly. “Kalman has the crown, Sir James. He can be anyone he pleases.” He frowned and drew a deep breath. “The pity is that we have only found out about him now. Do you know how long he has been calling himself Stuart, Sir James?”

“No, no I don’t. He’s new to the parliament, like me,”
confessed
Sir James, pacing up and down, his mind in complete turmoil. “Very popular he is, too. In fact, he’s so well thought of that people are talking of him as a future First Minister! You know, I
really
can’t take it all in! Are you
sure
you’re not
mistaken?”

“Believe me, there’s a protective shield round that house that a herd of elephants couldn’t shift,” Hamish said evenly. “This Ned Stuart fellow
is
Prince Kalman. There’s no two ways about it, I’m afraid!”

Sir James turned suddenly and grabbed Hamish by the arm. “The mirrors!” he gasped. “I thought they looked familiar when I saw them in the Turkish restaurant! I remember now! Ned Stuart has at least two in his house. I saw them in his study the last time I was there.”

“That proves it, then,” nodded Hamish slowly. “If he has such mirrors in his house then there’s no doubt that he’s Kalman.”

“But why would he be entertaining the French Consul?” mused the Ranger. “We’re more or less at war with the French these days, aren’t we?”

“That’s what I thought,” agreed Archie.

“The prince has a reason for everything he does,” observed Hamish seriously. “What
I’d
like to know, is where he’s been this past year!”

“Well, if he really is Ned Stuart, then he’s been here in Edinburgh,” Sir James looked at him in surprise. “I’ve been to his house several times. He entertains on quite a grand scale.”

“Did you ever wear your firestone when you went to see him?” Archie asked, somewhat anxiously.

Sir James shook his head. “No, I usually keep it locked in my desk drawer.”

“Thank goodness for that! You might have had a very nasty accident, otherwise!” “You don’t think he might have hexed me or something, do you?” Sir James looked more than a little alarmed.

“It’s more than likely!” confirmed Archie. “You’ve had a lucky escape, Sir James!”

“Just as well I didn’t wear it then. Really, I only ever use it if I’m coming here and need to call a carpet — or if I think
something
strange might be happening; like MacGregor’s tale of the disappearing Turkish restaurant!”

“Kalman’s really being a bit cheeky,” muttered Hamish,
disgustedly
. “Using the power of the crown to hide himself from us is one thing, but to do it here in Edinburgh, right under our very noses …”

“But why on earth did he put a protective shield round his house all of a sudden?” asked Jaikie, puzzled. “We didn’t know he was in town. He didn’t need to do it and it was a dead
give-away
.”

“What was a dead give-away?” asked Lady Ellan as she and Clara joined the little group amid a flapping of wings as Amgarad swooped to land on Clara’s shoulder.

“Kalman suddenly putting a protective shield round his house.”

“The Turks!” Sir James said immediately. “It must have been! Their restaurant was at the bottom of the High Street just yards away from the Scottish Parliament. And it was oozing magic! He must have picked up on it!”

Hamish raised his eyebrows. “I bet that gave him a nasty shock,” he grinned. “I know it floored us when we realized that Sulaiman the Red’s Turks had set up shop in the High Street! But you’re probably right. Kalman would be terrified that they’d latch on to the crown.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” muttered Sir James, “it isn’t just a matter of us getting the crown back any more.
I
think there’s another problem we have to address. If Kalman is involved with the French, then quite frankly I think it’s my duty to find out what he’s up to. They are pushing their claims to our fishing rights to the brink of all out war, you know. It’s no laughing matter.”

“You could always merge with the Frenchman and find out what he and Kalman talk about when they’re together?”
suggested
Clara, idly stroking Amgarad’s wings.

Archie shook his head. “That wouldn’t work, Clara. Kalman would sense at once if anyone had merged with the consul. We’ll have to think of something else.”

“Surely what we need is someone inside the consulate itself,” Lady Ellan mused. “Don’t you know anyone who works there, Sir James?”

Sir James shook his head. “Everyone who works there will have been cleared by security. I honestly doubt if we could manage it.”

The Ranger, smiling at the sight of the eagle perched on Clara’s shoulder, was suddenly visited by a brainwave. “We should send Amgarad! Just look at him, sitting on Clara’s shoulder! In an ideal position to read letters and listen to phone calls. Couldn’t you magic the count into wanting an eagle as a pet? Or something?”

“Mair like the
or something
,” growled Archie. “And isn’t Amgarad a wee bit noticeable? I mean, he’s an eagle, for
goodness
sake.”

“Well, he could be a parrot .. or … or a canary, I suppose …” Jaikie looked hopefully at Amgarad who looked so black affronted at the suggestion that the idea was promptly dropped.

“We could mention it to Rothlan,” Hamish said hurriedly, “and maybe, Sir James, you could question the count at this shooting party that you were talking about?”

Sir James nodded. “I only hope he doesn’t cry off. De Charillon doesn’t have many friends at the moment!”

“Where is this shoot taking place?” asked Archie
interestedly
.

“At Gleneagles,” answered Sir James, naming one of Scotland’s most prestigious hotels. “I’m really looking forward to it. I just hope that the rain holds off for long enough to give us a good day. The forecast isn’t promising.”