They crept into the palace grounds unnoticed. The sentry boxes flanking the golden gates were empty, and the only living things visible in the magnificent front garden, with its fountains and winding gravelled paths, were a few blue butterflies and some plump, sleek dots lolling about in the flowerbeds.
The palace was very beautiful – just as beautiful close up as it was in miniature on the music box, Leo thought. But an ugly cloud of thick, dark smoke was rising from behind it, dulling the crystal towers and staining the sky.
As they moved along the side of the palace towards the back, the sounds of many people shouting, the clattering of buckets, and the high whinnying of horses became louder. Smoke was thick in the air, and growing thicker.
‘Keep your head down,’ Conker growled to Spoiler, who was stumbling along beside him, still leaning heavily on Leo’s arm. ‘With a bit of luck no one will recognise you. It sounds as if they’ve got their hands full.’
They rounded the corner of the building and found themselves in a large paved stable yard that had become a scene of chaos. The hay shed beside the stables was on fire, and guards in filthy white uniforms were hurling buckets of water over the flames. Wild-eyed princesses, their frothy pastel dresses streaked with soot and their little silver crowns askew, were leading snorting, terrified horses out of the stables to safety. Weeping maids were rushing around beating out sparks with wet mops. Now and then someone would fall over a pale young man who was lying crumpled on the ground in the middle of the yard, being fanned by a plump woman in a starched apron.
‘Sweet, Pearl, Adora…’ muttered Conker, counting the princesses off on his fingers as they emerged from the stable door. ‘Grace, Charity, Daisy, Dimples, Jewel… but that’s all of them except – oh, my liver and lungs! The dragon must have taken Princess Pretty!’
‘But she’s only just come back from her honeymoon!’ cried Bertha. ‘How tragic!’
‘That looks like the new husband over there,’ Freda said, nodding at the pale young man. ‘He seems to be taking it badly.’
‘How do you expect him to take it?’ snapped Conker.
‘I’d be relieved if I was him,’ said Freda. ‘They say Pretty’s got a very nasty temper.’
‘Keep your voice down!’ Conker hissed, as a maid with a mop turned sharply to stare at them in scandalised fashion. ‘Sp – Dame Dally, where’s this tool shed?’
‘Further down, on the left,’ mumbled Spoiler from the depths of his bonnet.
Slowly they edged through the frantic crowd. No one challenged them, and for a moment Leo thought they were going to escape notice and reach the tool shed without delay.
But it was not to be.
‘Lady Bertha!’ a clear voice cried. ‘Oh, how good of you to come! Dear people, please make way! Make way for Lady Bertha and her team!’
Bertha blushed scarlet with mingled confusion and pleasure. Conker cursed under his breath. Spoiler groaned, hunched his shoulders and crushed his chin more deeply into the collar of his spotted blouse.
The people in front of them scattered, and in seconds they found themselves propelled into a clear space in the centre of the crowd. It was like being in the eye of a cyclone. There was frenzied activity all around them, but here in the centre there was a sad, heavy stillness, and the smell of smoke was mingled with the scent of lavender rising from dozens of mauve flowers lying trampled on the ground.
Four people stood in the middle of the space. There was a sweet-faced woman wearing a golden crown, a handsome man with distinguished grey side-whiskers and a slightly larger crown, an elderly knight in full armour, and Officer Begood, his nose wrapped in a large gauze bandage.
The king and queen smiled sadly in welcome. Officer Begood frowned. The knight looked at Spoiler with interest, and twirled his bristling white moustache.
‘Your majesties,’ said Bertha nervously, dropping a graceful curtsey. ‘You have met Conker and Freda, I know. May I present our colleagues Mimi, Leo and… um… Dame Dally.’
The king and queen nodded graciously as Conker, Leo and Mimi bowed, Freda ducked her head a fraction and Spoiler managed a wobbly bob.
Officer Begood cleared his throat. ‘As her majesty has so rightly pointed out, it was very kind of you to come,’ he said, staring at Conker resentfully. ‘But your services are not required. Sir Clankalot and I have the situation well under control.’
‘Oh, we can see that,’ jeered Freda, glancing around.
Officer Begood pursed his lips. Sir Clankalot looked huffy.
‘When did you get here, Clankalot?’ Conker asked.
‘Not long ago,’ the knight said evasively.
‘We summoned Sir Clankalot this morning, as soon as we heard of the dragon peril,’ said the king, his deep voice sombre. ‘We felt he would be the perfect hero to guard the princesses, having devoted his life to dragon-hunting.’
‘So what went wrong?’ Freda drawled. Clankalot shot her a savage look.
‘Naturally, we kept the girls inside until Sir Clankalot arrived,’ the queen said softly. ‘But after that – well, I had developed a slight headache, and Pretty offered to make me some lavender water to ease it. I was so… well, pleased and touched by her sympathy, I suppose, because Pretty isn’t usually very –’
The king cleared his throat and she broke off, realising that she was on the point of revealing more about her daughter’s character than was proper.
‘Pretty came out to pick the lavender,’ she went on in a trembling voice. ‘Sir Clankalot was with her, so I thought she would be quite safe. But unfortunately…’ The king put his arm around her as her gentle eyes filled with tears.
There was an awkward silence.
‘It all happened so fast,’ Clankalot said defensively. ‘The beast came at us like an arrow from the sky, roaring fire. I’ve never seen anything like it. It missed me by a whisker, grabbed the princess and was away before I could blink. I tried to catch her, but all I managed to save were …’
He moved a little aside so everyone could see two small furry boots sitting side by side on the lavender-strewn paving stones.
The queen sighed. ‘I’ve always believed that losing a shoe brings you luck,’ she said.
‘Not this time, apparently,’ Freda remarked, and moved quickly out of range of Conker’s foot.
‘This was the first time Pretty had worn them.’ The queen stared blindly down at the boots. ‘They’re not very elegant, I know, but they are deliciously comfortable – I tried them on myself when they first came. They were a wedding present from Clogg’s Shoe Emporium in Hobnob. They’re quite unique and very valuable, according to the label on the box. They’re supposed to be magic, though so far we haven’t worked out exactly how.’
‘Didn’t you say they fit anyone’s foot, whatever the size, Ella?’ the king put in.
The queen shrugged. ‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Clogg’s more expensive shoes have been “one size fits all” for years. There have been quite a few developments in footwear design since we were young, my dear.’
Her face suddenly crumpled. ‘Oh, why am I talking about shoes?’ she burst out, wringing her hands. ‘Oh, my poor Pretty! Doomed to be enslaved by that wicked woman who calls herself a queen! And we can do nothing to save her – nothing! Oh, if only we hadn’t let my old fairy godmother retire! If only she were here!’
‘We had to let her go, Ella,’ the king murmured. ‘She upset the messenger mice – always turning them into things. Think how many times we nearly got banned.’
Conker gave a very false-sounding cough. ‘Ah – that reminds me,’ he said. ‘We have to send a message ourselves – vital quest business, you understand. I need a quiet spot to compose the note.’
‘Somewhere that’s not on fire, preferably,’ Freda put in. ‘Your tool shed, for example.’
‘Oh, certainly,’ the king said distractedly. ‘It’s down below the lavender hedge. Make yourselves at home.’ His wife moaned at the mention of lavender and he bent towards her anxiously. ‘Sweetheart, come away now,’ he begged. ‘We can do nothing here, and we should perhaps help Nanny try to revive Claude. He is in danger of being trampled, and he is our son-in-law, after all.’
The queen glanced through the crowd at the pale young man who was still on the ground being fanned by the plump woman and dodged by firefighting guards. Clearly it was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn’t care if he was trampled or not. Then she gave herself a little shake. ‘Pretty was very fond of him,’ she sighed, as if reminding herself.
She nodded to Bertha and the rest of the team, and allowed the king to lead her away. Officer Begood followed, trying to look grave and dignified in spite of his bandaged nose.
‘After you, dear lady,’ said Sir Clankalot, bowing gallantly to Spoiler.
‘Oh, no!’ simpered Spoiler in a squeaky voice. ‘After you!’ He picked up his skirts and dodged skittishly around the knight, ending up behind him.
‘Shy little thing, isn’t she?’ Clankalot chuckled in Leo’s ear. ‘But a fine figure of a woman. Very fine.’ He twirled his moustache, winked roguishly and clanked off in pursuit of Begood.
‘Right!’ said Conker, as the crowd closed in around them. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
With Spoiler giving flustered directions, they pushed their way out of the stable yard, skirted the lavender hedge and ducked into the tool shed.
As soon as the door was safely shut behind them, Conker pulled out his notebook and scribbled a message for Hal, glancing up suspiciously now and then to make sure that Spoiler wasn’t trying to see what he was writing. He knocked three times on the floor of the shed and silently held up the note for Mimi, Leo, Bertha and Freda to read:
Prisoner secured. Taking him to coast to pursue possible clue to enemy’s secret plan. Will advise developments. Hope your project going well. Conker.
‘Don’t you think we should say a bit more?’ Leo asked doubtfully. ‘That doesn’t really tell him anything.’
‘It tells him everything that matters,’ said Conker, folding the note small. ‘We can’t put everything down in black and white. What if the message falls into the wrong hands?’
‘A note entrusted to the Rondo Messenger Service never falls into the wrong hands!’ a tiny voice said indignantly from a hole in the wall.
A small brown mouse jumped smartly from the hole. It was wearing a nutshell on its head. The nutshell was covered in netting threaded with leaves and twigs.
‘There is a very bad smell in here,’ the mouse said, pinching its nostrils together. ‘I could report you for that, you know. Rule seventy-two clearly states that messengers should not be subjected to stress arising from vulgar sights, loud noises, unpleasant odours –’
‘What’s that supposed to be?’ Conker spluttered, pointing at the nutshell.
‘Camouflage helmets are to be worn by all messengers until further notice,’ squeaked the mouse, holding its nose. ‘The union voted that in this morning. These are perilous times, you know. Who is to receive the message?’
‘Hal, in Flitter Wood,’ Conker growled, with a sideways glance at Spoiler.
The mouse clipped Conker’s message to the chain around its neck, marched smartly back to the hole and disappeared, still holding its nose.
Conker glared after it. ‘Those mice –’ he began.
‘When can we go?’ Spoiler whined. ‘There is a bad smell in here. Like dirty socks. Funny, I didn’t notice it the last time I was here.’ He sniffed around and looked suspiciously at Bertha.
‘Do you mind?’ she exclaimed in outrage.
Mimi and Freda snorted with laughter. Bertha glared at them.
‘It’s Dragon’s Bane, Spoiler,’ Leo said quickly. ‘We’re all wearing it. We’ll give you some when we get to the coast.’
‘I paid good money for that stuff,’ Conker grumbled. ‘I’m not wasting it on him. Freda and I are sharing as it is.’
‘I won’t be much use to you if I’m carried off the moment we hit the sand, will I?’ Spoiler demanded. ‘You’ll never locate that fisherman without me!’
He flounced to a narrow corner cupboard marked POISONS and threw the door open to reveal grey mist that seemed to have fish scales floating in it.
‘Hold on!’ yelled Conker, leaping over to him and grabbing his arm.
‘I wasn’t trying to get away,’ Spoiler protested. ‘I won’t try to get away, I swear! Why should I? I need you!’
Conker pressed his lips together and pushed him through the door. The others followed.
The Gap smelled strongly of salt water, fish and Dragon’s Bane. Leo closed his eyes and wished for it to end. ‘Leo,’ he heard Mimi whispering beside him, ‘do you think Spoiler’s telling the truth? Do you think there really is a fisherman? Or is he leading us into a trap?’
This hadn’t occurred to Leo. He’d accepted Spoiler’s story completely. But suddenly fear gripped him, mixing horribly with the nausea of the Gap.
‘I don’t know,’ he managed to whisper back. ‘We’ll have to be –’
His voice broke off in a grunt as his heels thudded into soft sand. He pitched forward, rolled, and came to rest on his back. The thunder of waves filled his ears. He tasted salt on his lips. He felt hot breath on his face – breath that smelled strongly of fish.
His heart gave a sickening thud. He forced his eyes open.
A whiskery face hung over him, framed by grey sky. The face had faded blue eyes and weather-beaten cheeks. As Leo goggled at it, its lips parted in a gap-toothed grin.
A calloused hand grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. He found himself blinking at an old man in a yellow waterproof coat and rubber boots. The man was holding a fishing rod over one shoulder.
In the sand at his feet stood a cane basket with a lid.
‘Tricky Gap that one, sonny,’ the old man said kindly. ‘Shorter than you’d think, i’n it?’
Leo looked around dazedly and saw that Conker, Mimi, Freda and Bertha were standing right beside him. Conker, Mimi and Bertha looked very excited. Freda was keeping a sharp eye on Spoiler, who had turned his back, his shoulders hunched, his skirts and the frills of his bonnet whipping in the wind.
Conker folded his arms and looked severely at the fisherman. ‘From information received,’ he said, with a sideways glance at Spoiler, ‘I happen to know that you traded some fish for a heart-shaped silver box some days ago. Don’t try to deny it!’
‘Dunno why I’d deny it,’ said the fisherman, rubbing his whiskery chin. ‘I traded for that box fair and square. What’s it to you?’
‘The box is stolen property,’ Conker snapped. ‘We want it back.’
‘Do you now?’ the fisherman asked with interest.
‘Yes, we do!’ cried Bertha. ‘It’s extremely important.’
‘It really is,’ said Mimi earnestly.
The fisherman shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ he said, sounding truly regretful. ‘Can’t help you.’ He picked up the cane basket as if preparing to depart.
‘Don’t move!’ Conker roared, his hands on the handles of his dot-swatters. ‘This is vital quest business! You’ll go and get that box for us, or you’ll regret it.’
The man rubbed his chin again. ‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘to tell you the truth, I reckon I’d regret it more if I did go and get it.’
‘Why?’ Mimi demanded in frustration.
‘Two main reasons,’ said the fisherman. ‘One, the palace cook’s got fish pie on the menu for dinner tonight, and if I don’t get this fish to her quick smart she’ll have me guts for garters. And two, I gave that silver box to the Ogre of Cruelcliff.’