Thirty

 

Crow stretched, or at least he tried to. He propped his head under a winged arm and looked this way and that for his feet. Unfortunately, for him, no matter which angle he chose, his stomach got in the way! It was now very large and quite unmanageable because of the enormous quantities of food he was eating.

Sighing in contentment, Crow burped, cleared his throat and hummed tunelessly,

O me gosh!

Wonder where it be?

My cutie, cutie,

Footsies!

‘Such inspiring thoughts,’ Balloon said wryly.

Crow smiled as he yawned and lazily snapped his toes summoning Magic. Bowing deeply, as was customary with him, Magic appeared in an instant.

‘You good man,’ drawled Crow, smacking his beak. ‘Excellent breakfast. Loved the roasted chicken and mushroom sauce. A whiff of blue cheese, eh?’ Crow enquired knowledgeably, raising his left eyebrow as he looked at Magic.

Magic turned pink around the collar with pleasure. He cleared his throat and was about to explain intricate details of the background and history of the recipe, something chefs share only with the knowledgeable, but Crow couldn’t be bothered. ‘What’s for lunch, I say?’ he demanded with a burp.

Magic’s face lit up and with a great, big beaming smile, he stuck his hand into his pocket whipping out a list of possibilities.

‘I have no idea about all that,’ said Crow dismissively, as he rubbed his hand on his ample stomach and watched it obligingly flop this way and that. ‘Looks a bit wobbly, what?’ he asked Balloon, as he thoughtfully inspected himself.

‘That’s disgusting!’ retorted Balloon. ‘Now you’ll never be able to fly!’

‘Fly?’ enquired Crow, raising an eyebrow.

‘I believe flying is a way of dealing with weight. It’s plainly visible that you’ve now got more weight than you can possibly handle.’ Balloon smiled sweetly, batting her long eyelashes coquettishly.

‘Well, turtle soup should settle things,’ Crow sighed and said. Turning towards Magic, he added, ‘With a touch of celery and a generous squeeze of lemon juice, dear boy.’

‘Really, Crow!’ exclaimed Balloon in consternation. ‘Turtle soup! How can you even suggest such a thing?’

Crow mulled over the thought. ‘Don’t see what the problem is but since you seem to be making such an issue of it, guess I’ll settle for garlic bread and snake stew.’

Magic froze. He moved one hand with lightning speed, clamping Crow’s beak tight. His eyes furtively darted this way and that before focussing on the open window. His body shook as he wiped his sweating brow on his immaculate sleeve, and then he placed a quivering finger to his lips. ‘Never,’ he whispered hoarsely to Crow, ‘must Your Lordship ever mention that disgusting word.’ He couldn’t go on and spluttered. ‘Bad luck it is bringing!’ he said, summing up his sentiments. He shuddered uncontrollably, as if countless snakes had slithered up and down his spine.

Magic furtively pointed out of the window to the castle on the hill. Flakes of grey cloud swirled around the castle. Its silhouette was a blurred eerie outline in the dim morning mist.

‘Home it is of The Serpent,’ he croaked, ‘and you are wanting his stew!’ He turned his eyes heavenwards in disgust and then seemed to remember his mother, for he reverentially blew a dozen kisses somewhere towards the sky and asked for her blessings.

Crow determinedly crossed his arms. ‘Sorry, old chap!’ he said, ‘I want snake stew and I want it double quick.’

Magic was sweating profusely. ‘Ask of me anything else,’ he pleaded, ‘but this, I beg of you, please ask not!’

‘If there’s a problem with snake, there’s a problem with snake,’ interjected Balloon wisely, ‘and in any case, it is such an ugh sort of thing to ask for.’

But Crow was insistent. ‘Read my lips, dear boy,’ said Crow to Magic, as he exaggeratedly mouthed the words ‘snake stew’.

‘Sorry, no one can do this!’ said Magic with a tone of finality and looking extremely miffed at the entire conversation. ‘The recipe, it is not in the Great Recipe Book.’ He twitched his moustache defiantly and realised that it depended very much on how things proceeded because he could very well lose his job as the head chef and then, who knows what might happen.

The little boy had entered the room and had been listening to the conversation for sometime now. He looked out of the window at the castle and said, ‘If you want snake stew, I dare say Magic would be happy to learn a recipe or two. Can’t imagine it being particularly difficult.’

There was silence in the room.

Crow scratched his chin quietly and looked out of the window at the castle.

Magic dropped his jaw and stared with great surprise at the little boy and then at Crow and Balloon.

The little boy smiled broadly at Magic and said, ‘Maybe you really ought to get hold of some snake recipes, so that you can prepare a meal for our honoured guests.’ He paused and let the words sink in. Then he added for Magic’s benefit, ‘The Awaited One is with The Master. And, these are her friends.’

Magic’s eyes popped. His moustache suddenly seemed to have acquired a life of its own, for it briskly sprang to attention and stood on either side of his cheeks like two lightning conductors. He promptly planted slobbering kisses on Crow’s feet and on Balloon and then floated out of the window, feet first, with the expression of someone who had just seen, not one but three, living saints. He wondered why he had not seen all of this earlier, as there was something perfectly saintly about the three of them. ‘Growing old, losing my touch,’ he decided, with a sniff.

Magic floated towards his bookshelf and looked at the titles. ‘Should be under “S”, under “S”, under “S”,’ he said, as his fingers scrolled the titles of cookbooks that were all neatly arranged alphabetically. ‘Ah! found it!’ he exclaimed and pulled out a large leather-bound tome titled Gourmet’s Guide to One Hundred and One Snake Recipes for Special Occasions. There was satisfaction on his face as he settled down to look at the recipes.

‘It’s falling into place,’ the little boy said. ‘The battle is about to begin.’

Balloon looked at the little boy, wondering about what he had just said. Crow silently played peek-a-boo with his toes.