Part 7 (2/2)

'Therefore let Maat be done.'

'What's Maat?' Luka asked Ratatat the squirrel.

'Ahem,' said Ratatat, raising her eyebrows and twitching her whiskers professorially. 'It is a reference to the divine music of the Universe oh yes! and the structure of the World, and the nature of Time, the most basic of all Forces, which to interfere with is a crime '

'In short?' Luka requested.

'Oh,' said Ratatat, looking a little disappointed. 'Well, then, in brief, Ra means that order has been disturbed, and justice must be done.'

Luka discovered all at once that he was feeling extremely annoyed. How dare this posse of has-beens judge him? Who were they to tell him he should not try to save his father's life? This was the moment at which he saw his companions arriving on the scene, and the sight of his beloved dog and bear and the four loyal Changers under arrest increased his irritation. These supernatural pensioners had some nerve, he thought. He would have to show them what was what.

'[image]' cried Ra the Supreme, '[image]

[image]'

'Do I have to translate all that?' said Ratatat reluctantly.

'Yes,' Luka insisted.

'Fortunately for you,' said Ratatat, sighing a little, 'I have an excellent memory, and an obliging nature as well. You won't like it, though. ”Once and for all,”' she began, '”members of the Real World must be shown that they are not permitted the use of the Fire of Life. It cannot revive the Dead, for they have entered the Book of the Dead and are no longer Beings, but only Words. But to the Dying it gives new life, and in the healthy it can induce great longevity, even immortality, which belongs to the G.o.ds alone. The Fire of Life must not cross the boundary and enter the Real World, and yet here is a Fire Thief who plans precisely to take it across that forbidden frontier. An example must be made.”'

'Oh, is that so?' said Luka. A fire of his own making had risen in his breast, and blazed through his eyes. The strange inner force that had gripped him after n.o.bodaddy's disappearance rose up again and gave him the strength he needed. 'As it happens,' he realised, 'I know exactly what to say.' Then he called out so loudly to the a.s.sembled ex-G.o.ds that they stopped roaring and hissing and chirping and whinnying and making all the other weird noises they habitually made, and fell silent, and listened.

'It's my turn to speak now,' Luka hollered at the a.s.sembled Supernatural Beings, 'and, believe you me, I have a lot to say about all this poppyc.o.c.k, and you had better listen closely, and listen well, because your future depends upon it as much as mine does. You see, I know something you don't know about this World of Magic ... it isn't your World! it isn't your World! It doesn't even belong to the Aalim, whoever they are, wherever they are lurking right now. It doesn't even belong to the Aalim, whoever they are, wherever they are lurking right now. This is my father's World This is my father's World. I'm sure there are other Magic Worlds dreamed up by other people, Wonderlands and Narnias and Middle-earths and whatnot and I don't know, maybe there are some such Worlds that dreamed themselves up, I suppose that's possible, and I won't argue with you if you say it is but this one, G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, ogres and bats, monsters and slimy things, is the World of Ras.h.i.+d Khalifa, the well-known Ocean of Notions, the fabulous Shah of Blah. From start to finish; Level One to Level Nine and back again; lock, stock and barrel; from soup to nuts, it's his.

'He put it together this way, he gave it shape and laws, and he brought all of you here to populate it, because he has learned about you, thought about you, and even dreamed about you all his life. The reason this World is the way it is, is because, Right-Handed or Left-Handed, n.o.body's World or the World of Nonsense, this is the World inside his head! And I know about it probably that's why I was able to stumble to the right and step to the left and get here because I've been hearing about it every day of my life, as bedtime stories and breakfast sagas and dinner-table yarns, and as tall tales told to audiences all over the city of Kahani and the country of Alifbay, and also as little secrets he whispered into my ears, just for me. So in a way it's now my World, too. And the plain truth is that if I don't get the Fire of Life to him before it's too late, he isn't the only one who will come to an end. Everything here will vanish, too; I don't know what will become of you all exactly but, at the very least, you won't have this comfortable World to live in any more, this place where you can go on pretending you matter when actually n.o.body gives a hoot. And in the worst-case scenario you will disappear completely poof poof as if you had never been, because let's be frank, how many people other than Ras.h.i.+d Khalifa are really bothering to keep your story going nowadays? How many people know any more about the Salamander that lives in Fire, or the Squonk that is so sad about being ugly that it actually dissolves into tears? as if you had never been, because let's be frank, how many people other than Ras.h.i.+d Khalifa are really bothering to keep your story going nowadays? How many people know any more about the Salamander that lives in Fire, or the Squonk that is so sad about being ugly that it actually dissolves into tears?

'Wake up and smell the coffee, old-timers! You're extinct! You're deceased! As G.o.ds and wonderful creatures, you have ceased to be! You say the Fire of Life mustn't cross into the Real World? I'm telling you that if it doesn't reach one particular member of the Real World double-quick, you're done for. Your golden eggs have been fried, and your magic goose is cooked.'

'Wow,' Ratatat the squirrel whispered into his ear. 'You've certainly got their attention now.'

The entire army of discarded divinities had been shocked into amazed silence. Luka under the Tree of Terror knew that he mustn't let anything break the spell. And besides, he had plenty more to say.

'Shall I tell you who you are now?' he shouted. 'Well, first I'll go on reminding you who you aren't. You aren't really the G.o.ds of anywhere or anyone any more. You no longer have the power of life and death and salvation and d.a.m.nation. You can't turn into bulls and capture Earth girls, or interfere in wars, or play any of those other games you used to play. Look at you! Instead of real Powers, you have Beauty Contests. It's a bit on the feeble side, to be honest with you. Listen to me: it's only through Stories that you can get out into the Real World and have some sort of power again. When your story is well told, people believe in you; not in the way they used to believe, not in a wors.h.i.+pping way, but in the way people believe in stories happily, excitedly, wis.h.i.+ng they wouldn't end. You want Immortality? It's only my father, and people like him, who can give it to you now. My father can make people forget that they forgot all about you, and start adoring you all over again and being interested in what you've been getting up to and wis.h.i.+ng that you wouldn't end. And you're trying to stop me? You should be begging me to finish the work I came here to do. You should be helping me. You should be putting the Fire into my Ott Pot, making sure it lights up my Ott Potatoes, and then escorting me all the way home. Who am I? I'm Luka Khalifa. I'm the only chance you've got.'

It was the greatest speech of his life as a performer, delivered on the most important stage on which he had ever set foot; and he had used every ounce of skill and pa.s.sion in his body, that was true but had he carried his audience with him? 'Maybe so,' he thought worriedly, 'and maybe no.'

Bear the dog and Dog the bear, still on the Horse King's back, were shouting out supportively, yelling, 'That's telling them!' and so on, but the silence of the G.o.ds grew so dense, so oppressive, that in the end even Bear held his tongue. That awful silence went on thickening, like a fog, and the dark skies grew darker until the only light Luka could see was the glow from the Fire Temple, and in that flickering radiance he saw the slow movements of giant shadows all around him, shadows that looked like they were closing in on the Tree of Terror and the boy who stood captive beneath it with a Sumerian thunder demon as his guard. Closer and closer the shadows came, forming themselves into a single giant fist that was closing around Luka, and would, any minute now, squeeze the life out of him like water from a sponge. 'This is it, then,' he thought. 'My speech didn't work, they didn't buy it, and so here's an end to it all.' He wished he could hug his dog and his bear once more. He wished the people he loved were there to hold his hand. He wished he could wish himself out of this jam. He wished ...

The Mountain of Knowledge began to shake violently, as if some invisible colossus were jumping up and down on its slopes. The trunk of the Tree of Terror cracked from top to bottom, and the Tree fell in ruins to the ground, its cras.h.i.+ng branches narrowly missing Luka and the thunder demon. One falling branch struck Mimir the Head, and he unleashed an injured yelp. From among the ranks of the G.o.ds and monsters there were many more cries, of anguish, bewilderment and fear. Then came the most terrifying events of all. There were instants, very brief, fractions of seconds, when everything completely disappeared everything completely disappeared, and Luka, Bear and Dog the three visitors from the Real World remained suspended in an appalling, colourless, soundless, motionless, lawless, everything-less absence absence. Then the Magic World came back again, but a horrible realisation began to dawn on everyone and everything there: the World of Magic was in trouble. Its deepest foundations were shaking, its geography was becoming uncertain, its very existence had begun to be an intermittent, onoff affair. What if the 'off' moments started getting longer? What if they began to last longer than the 'on' ones? What if the 'on' moments, the periods of the World's existence, diminished to split seconds, or even vanished entirely? What if everything the Fire Thief had just told them was the naked truth, in which they had until now refused to believe, clothed as they all were in the tatters of their old divine glory and the remnants of their pride? Was this the bare, unvarnished reality: that their survival was tied to the ebbing life of a sick and dying man? These were the questions plaguing all the inhabitants of the Magic World, but in Luka's panicked, racing mind there was a simpler, more horrifying query.

Was Ras.h.i.+d Khalifa about to die?

Anzu the thunder demon fell to its knees and began to plead with Luka in a soft, sad, piteous voice, '[image]

[image].'

Ratatat was so scared that her voice shook as she translated the Sumerian. '”Save us, sir! Only, please, sir, we don't want to be just fairy tales. We want to be revered again! We want to be ... divine.”'

'Sir, huh?' Luka thought. 'That's a change of tone if ever I heard one.' Hope surged through his body, fighting against his despair; he rallied all his strength to make one last effort, and said with all the force he could command, 'Take it or leave it, all of you. It's the best offer you're going to get.'

The darkness stopped closing in around him; the wrath of the G.o.ds wavered; overcome by their fear, it broke into pieces and dissipated completely, to be replaced by abject terror. The clouds of anger parted, the daylight returned, and everyone could see that the rip in the sky through which the G.o.d-swarm had poured had grown ten times as large as before; that there were actually cracks running across the heavens from horizon to horizon; and that the army of mythological figures was itself deteriorating ageing, cracking, fading, weakening, diminis.h.i.+ng and losing the ability to be. Aphrodite, Hathor, Venus and the other Beauty G.o.ddesses looked at the wrinkled skin on their hands and arms and shrieked, 'Smash all the mirrors!' And the immense figure of the falcon-headed Egyptian Supreme Deity fell to its knees just like Anzu had, its body beginning to crumble like an ancient monument; and all the other G.o.ds followed Ra's lead or at least those of them who had knees. In a low, respectful, frightened voice, Ra the Supreme said, '[image]

[image]'

'What did he say?' Luka asked Ratatat, who had started jumping up and down on his shoulder, squeaking loudly.

'He says they'll take it your offer, that is,' squeaked Ratatat, in a voice that was simultaneously relieved and terrified. 'You can take the Fire now. Hurry! What are you waiting for? Save your father! Save us all! Don't just stand there! Move!'

Shadows rushed across the sky above their heads. 'Well, will you look at that!' said the welcome voice of the Insultana of Ott. 'I thought I was leading my loyal Otter Air Force on a doomed-but-gallant rescue attempt of an incompetent but oddly likeable young fellow, because, in spite of your foolhardiness, in the final a.n.a.lysis I couldn't stand by and leave you to your fate with only my Honorary Otter Ratatat to represent me; but I see to my considerable surprise, considering what a foolish boy you are that you have managed pretty well on your own.' There in the newly cloud-free, but also decaying, sky above the Mountain of Knowledge was the entire OAF on its flying carpets, with quant.i.ties of rotten vegetables and itching-powder paper planes at the ready, and Queen Soraya at their head aboard Resham Resham, the Flying Carpet of King Solomon the Wise, along with Coyote the decoy runner, the Elephant Birds 'We came too!' they shouted down. 'We don't just want to remember stuff! We want to do do stuff too!' and a male stranger of great age and improbable size, who was also completely naked, with a heavily scarred midriff. stuff too!' and a male stranger of great age and improbable size, who was also completely naked, with a heavily scarred midriff.

Luka didn't have time to reply to anyone, or to ask who the naked stranger was, or even to embrace Bear and Dog, who had jumped off the Horse King's back and rushed to his side. 'I have to get to the Fire,' he cried. 'Every second counts.' Bear the dog reacted at once, and charged at breakneck speed into the Fire Temple, to return a few seconds later with a burning wooden brand between his teeth, ablaze with the brightest, most cheerful, most attractive, most hopeful fire Luka had ever seen; and Dog the bear climbed the columns of the Fire Temple and, with one great paw, hammered the golden ball over the entrance as hard as he could. Luka heard the telltale little ding ding, saw the number in the top right-hand corner of his field of vision click up to 8, grabbed the burning wood from Bear's jaws and plunged it into the Ott Pot, whereupon the little Ott Potatoes began to burn with the same heart-warming, optimistic cheeriness as the stick.

'Let's go!' yelled Luka, hanging the Pot around his neck again. Its warmth felt comforting; and Soraya swooped down to allow Luka, Bear and Dog to leap up onto King Solomon's Carpet. 'No faster mode of transport in the whole Magic World,' she cried. 'Say your farewells and let's be on our way.' Then Nuthog and her sisters and the squirrel Ratatat shouted, 'No time for that! Goodbye! Good luck! Go!' And so they did. Soraya's carpet hurtled back through the rip in the sky. 'You came in from the Right-Hand World, so that's the way you'll have to go back out,' she told him. The rest of the Otter Air Force followed, but the Carpet of King Solomon was flying at its very fastest, and the others were soon left behind.

'Don't you worry,' said Soraya in her most determinedly cheerful voice. 'I'll get you back in time. After all, it turns out that you have our whole World to save as well as your dad.'

8.

The Race Against Time.

The sky was falling. They were flying through the hole in the sky, and parts of the heavens were dropping off and cras.h.i.+ng down on to the Heart of Magic below. Luka (once again wrapped up for warmth in Soraya's charmed blanket) could not feel the wind inside the defensive bubble Soraya had erected around the flying carpet, but he could see its effects on the world below. Whole trees had been uprooted and went flying through the air as if they had been blown off a huge dandelion clock; fierce leather-winged dragons were being tossed hither and yon like children's toys; and the Gossamer Net Heaven, the most fragile area of the Heart of Magic, made up of fifty-five layers of glistening webs, had been torn to shreds. The 'Great Pure Realm', the legendary Library of Ling-pao T'ien-tsun, which had survived for thousands of years in the Gossamer Nets, was no more. Its ancient volumes were borne aloft, their torn pages fluttering like wings. 'The Winds of Change are blowing,' cried the Elephant Drake, and the Elephant Duck mourned, 'Our little knowledge counts for nothing when you compare it to the wisdom that is being destroyed today.' It was almost impossible for Luka to hear what they were saying because there was a screaming in the wind that seemed, well, alive alive. It was Coyote, his hair standing on end, who explained that the Wind Shriekers are loose, an when they get to shriekin, why the whole of creation is fit to come apart at the seam the Wind Shriekers are loose, an when they get to shriekin, why the whole of creation is fit to come apart at the seam. Luka decided he didn't want to ask who or what the Wind Shriekers might be.

Luka, along with Coyote, the Elephant Birds, Bear the dog and Dog the bear, sat tensely near the leading edge of the flying carpet, watching the turbulent World flash past. Behind them, at the carpet's centre, Soraya stood with her eyes closed and her arms outstretched, forcing Resham Resham to achieve speeds it had never touched before; and behind her, with his hands on her shoulders, lending her his strength, knelt the gigantic old naked man whom Luka had never met. to achieve speeds it had never touched before; and behind her, with his hands on her shoulders, lending her his strength, knelt the gigantic old naked man whom Luka had never met. It's him It's him, Coyote hissed into Luka's ear. The Old Boy. First an greatest. Heard bout your run an came out to lend a hand. The Old Boy. After all this time. It's a fine thing, kid. It honours us all The Old Boy. First an greatest. Heard bout your run an came out to lend a hand. The Old Boy. After all this time. It's a fine thing, kid. It honours us all.

They flew out of the Heart of Magic and the Forking Paths were below them, their waters boiling, leaping into the air to form hanging walls of liquid, then falling back again in floods. 'So this is Level Nine,' Luka heard himself saying, and Soraya answered grimly, 'No, this is the End of the World.'

The Inescapable Whirlpool and the El Tiempo time-trap were swirling around faster and faster, sucking material into their mouths with ever greater force, and Soraya had to take the flying carpet dangerously high, sixty-one miles above the Earth's surface, less than a mile from the Karman Line, but there was still a moment when Soraya had to take the flying carpet dangerously high, sixty-one miles above the Earth's surface, less than a mile from the Karman Line, but there was still a moment when Soraya had to take the flying carpet dangerously high, sixty-one miles above the Earth's surface, less than a mile from the Karman Line, but there was still a moment when Soraya had to take the flying carpet dangerously high, sixty-one miles above the Earth's surface, less than a mile from the Karman Line, but there was still a moment when They were almost trapped, and then they broke free and flew like a missile from a boy's slingshot in a direction which Soraya was unable to control. The flying carpet was spinning round and round like a coin and its pa.s.sengers clung to one another for dear life. Luka didn't notice the Great Stagnation below them, and then they were at the Mists of Time. The Mists were in trouble too: large holes and tears had appeared in that formerly impenetrable wall of grey. Inside the Mists the carpet was still spinning and the Memory Birds wept with the fear of Oblivion and Coyote howled and things could have become unbearable if the 'Old Boy', the t.i.tan Prometheus, had not risen to his feet and spoken for the first time, using words of Power. 'Khulo!' he roared at the swirling fog of nothingness. 'I did not escape the Bird of Zeus to perish in a fog! Dafa ho! Dafa ho! Begone, foul Curtain, and let us be on our way.' And at once the flying carpet emerged from the Mists, and Luka could see where they were. Begone, foul Curtain, and let us be on our way.' And at once the flying carpet emerged from the Mists, and Luka could see where they were.

It was not a cheerful sight. They had been blown far away from the River. The City of Dreams was below them now, and as Soraya fought to steer the flying carpet in the right direction, Luka could see the towers of the Dream City toppling like card palaces, its homes lying in roofless ruin, and he saw, too, many of the unhoused Dreams, which only flourished behind drawn curtains in comfortable darkness, staggering into the bright streets to collapse and wither in the light. Nightmares galloped blindly down the City's roads, and only a few citizens seemed unaffected; but even these were wandering about vaguely, not paying attention to the chaos around them, as if they lived in worlds of their own. 'Those must be Daydreams,' Luka guessed.

The collapse of the World of Magic terrified him, because it could only mean that Ras.h.i.+d Khalifa's life was sliding down its last slope, and so, while Luka watched in horror the crumbling of the fields and farms of the Land of Lost Childhood, while he saw the smoke rising from the forest fires burning on the Blue Remembered Hills, while he witnessed the collapse of the City of Hope, all he could think was: 'Get me back in time, please don't let me be too late, just get me back in time.'

Then he saw the Cloud Fortress of Baadal-Garh heading towards them at high speed, its ma.s.sive fortifications intact, the Cloud upon which it stood boiling and bubbling like a sped-up film of itself, and with a sinking heart he understood that his final battle still lay ahead. His left hand clutched at the Ott Pot hanging round his neck, and its warmth gave him a little strength. He crawled on all fours along the flying carpet until he reached Soraya it was impossible to walk on that rippling, zooming, wind-tossed rug and he asked, already knowing the answers, 'Who is in charge of that Fortress? Do they mean us any harm?' Soraya's face and body were filled with tension. 'I wish we hadn't outrun the Otter Air Force,' she said, almost to herself. 'But, anyway, they wouldn't have been much use against this enemy.' Then she turned sadly to Luka and answered him. 'In my heart of hearts I knew this would happen,' she said. 'I didn't know where or how or when, but I knew they would not stand back. It is the Aalim, Luka the Guardians of the Fire, the Lords of Time. Jo-Hua, Jo-Hai, Jo-Aiga. A harsher Trinity you never will see. And with them, just as I suspected, there is a traitor and a turncoat. Look, there, upon the battlement. That vermilion bush s.h.i.+rt. That battered panama hat. There is the scoundrel, among the ranks of your deadliest foes.'

Yes, it was n.o.bodaddy, no longer a transparent spectre, but looking as solid as any man. Rage and misery wrestled with each other in Luka's heart, but he fought them both back. This was a situation for calm minds. The Fortress City of Baadal-Garh was upon them, and as it neared, it grew. The Cloud upon which it stood spread around the Flying Carpet of King Solomon the Wise, and as it encircled them so did the Fortress's lengthening walls. They were in a prison in the sky, Luka realised, and even though the air above them was clear he was sure that some unseen barrier would block their way if they attempted to escape. They were the prisoners of Time, and the flying carpet came to a halt right below the battlement where the creature Luka had known as n.o.bodaddy stood, looking down at them with scorn.

'Look at me,' he said. 'As you see, you are already too late.'

Luka had to fight for self-control then, but he managed to shout back, 'That can't be true, otherwise you'd no longer be around, would you? If you were telling the truth about what happens when your work is done, then you'd have done that opposite-of-the-Bang thing, you'd whatever you called it un-become un-become, and you told me you didn't want to do that '

'Un-Be,' n.o.bodaddy corrected him. 'You should know the terminology by now. Oh, and when I said I didn't want to do that? I lied. Why would any creature not want to do the thing it was created for? If you're born to dance, you dance. If you're born to sing, you don't sit around keeping your mouth shut. And if you come into being in order to eat a man's life, then finis.h.i.+ng the job and Un-Being after it's done is the supreme achievement, the absolutely satisfying climax. Yes! A thing of ecstasy.

'It sounds like you're in love with death, to be honest with you,' said Luka, and then understood the meaning of what he'd said.

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