Chapter thirty-nine

Oikonde and nearby

 

It had only taken three days for Eukalia to arrange an audience with the Archon. During that time Hardacre had wanted to pop back to check that everything was alright at home, but he knew this would seem outrageously twitchy to his host and would be thaumically costly. He hadn’t even dared to write to John on his mail paper – he only had three sheets left and who knew what might happen next?

The Archon was staying in a house only three streets away, but it had clearly taken some persuasion to get him to agree to the meeting.  They met in a small room in the undistinguished house, which apparently belonged to the Archon’s grandniece.  He was sitting sipping a glass of extravagantly green liquid that Hardacre didn’t recognise.

 ‘So, you’re the Hybitor Envoy are you?’ said the very old elf when he saw him walk through the door, ‘I met one of your sort before – he was a very strange fellow – name of Ismay, I believe’

Hardacre nodded and then gave a little bow. He sensed that the Archon wasn’t much of one for these gestures, but something was nonetheless required.

‘What’s your name, then?’ asked the Archon

‘Laurence Hardacre, sir’

‘And do ask a lot of stupid questions, too?’

‘Quite probably, but you will have to forgive me for that. I am a very lowly member of Mr Ismay’s organisation’

The Archon laughed and nodded, as if he could see exactly what Hardacre meant.

‘Well, there’s no need to put yourself down now, is there?  I must say I already like you more than that other one. Why don’t you take a seat, Laurence?’

‘Thank you, sir’

Hardacre sat on the small wooden chair in front of the Archon. There was a table to the Archon’s left upon which sat a decanter of the green liquid.

‘Will you try some of this?’ asked the elf

‘What is it, sir?’

‘It’s fermented Balios juice from the orchards around Aristarios. You won’t have had it before…’

Hardacre said nothing; he knew that this wasn’t a question. The Archon was clearly an elf who liked to talk and when he was talking he really wanted to be listened to. He waited while the Archon poured out a glass of the drink for him and then handed it across.

‘We call it Euphorios – it’s usually best not to drink too much’

Hardacre, whose normal intake of any intoxicating beverages was limited to a sherry on a Friday night and the occasional glass of wine when John pressed him, took the glass a little hesitantly. He put the cup to his lips and drank a little. It tasted like apple blossoms and pomegranate, and it made him a little giddy just sniffing in the aroma. Hardacre guessed that the old elf was teasing him, but he saw no good reason not to play along.

‘Well what do you think, Laurence?’

Hardacre permitted himself a mannered smile.

‘It is excellent sir, very bracing’

‘Yes, it is isn’t it; you won’t get anything like that this side of the divide…’

Hardacre had already made the firm decision, based on what John had said about his disastrous meeting with the Archon before, not to be drawn into asking cosmological questions. 

‘Helios has the sun, I suppose – for the ripening – you never seem to see it as much here…’

‘Really, sir, that’s very interesting’

‘Or maybe the quality of the sun…who knows. Everything over here seems a bit grey and drab…’

Hardacre nodded as he sipped the Euphorios. At least lapping at the liquor was one way to make the Archon’s mild arrogance a little more palatable. 

The conversation lapsed into silence and Hardacre waited some more. The Archon stared at him in wonder.

‘Are you a mule, Laurence?’

Hardacre was startled by this sudden, unexpected, thrust. Mules were half human, half elf hybrids were not mentioned in polite conversation. This didn’t seem to count as polite conversation, however.

‘No, sir, I’m not. What made you think I might be?’

‘Your general speed of reaction. We’ve been sitting her for several minutes and you haven’t come to the point yet. I find that wholly admirable’

 ‘Thank you sir’

The Euphorios was making Hardacre feel rather light headed, but also rather sleepy. He realised that this might be one occasion when seeming on the edge of dozing off might actually be an advantage. He allowed his eyes to flicker.

The Archon looked over at him again.

‘Well, you’re not a mule, apparently, and you’re not an elf, obviously, so you must be some new form of human. Good for you, Laurence’

Hardacre smiled sleepily – it was only half an act.

‘Well, what is it that you want then, unusual human?’

Laurence’s mind stood to attention, even while his body still drifted a little. He had to get this right.

‘Well, sir, we’re concerned that a rogue witch may have used the folds to develop a new sort of magic’

The Archon arched his eyebrows. He didn’t look surprised.

‘I know – some fool barbarian keeps breaking in and messing things up. That’s what nearly did for your leader, you know’

Hardacre waited again. This was not the time for supplementary questions.

‘Whoever the idiot is had left his rubbish all over the entrance streams – it’ll take forever to clean up’

‘Oh dear – that’s sounds most inconsiderate’

‘And he’s also caused all the upsets in the Folds – that’s what I meant about Ismay…’

‘Really, sir, that is a worry’

The Archon grumbled a bit and then seemed to lose his train of thought. He procrastinated for a while, ruminating internally and then he had an idea.

‘You lot are meant to be good at magic aren’t you?’

‘So, it is said, sir, I suppose’

‘Maybe you can help then – clear up the mess?’

Hardacre frowned on the outside, but smiled inside. It was pleasing when something worked so well.

‘I think that very unlikely – my powers are seriously limited…’

The Archon was having none of this. He looked at Hardacre as if he was the only one who really appreciated the human’s hidden qualities.

‘No – I insist. You must come and have a bit of a look... at the very least…’

 

***

The way to the Folds in Oikonde passed through the now winter-stripped woodlands to the north west. It was as complicated and ridden with magical seals and traps as the way to the Folds in Hipparia. For some reason, however, this time the Archon was keen to explain exactly how the whole system worked, without, of course, giving any real secrets away. Hardacre began to half-wonder if this was really the same elf as John had met, but he knew that he was. The main thing he needed to suppress was feeling smug, which was tempting, but would be unbecoming.

Eventually the path climbed up an incline and the apparently endless trees became more scattered. The track opened up into an area of open scrub, climbing some distance above the forest. When they had left Oikonde the winter sun had been shining strongly and during the walk through the forest the sunlight had constantly dappled the floor through the open leafless canopy. Somehow, however, the sun had disappeared by the time they had climbed into the open, but for some reason it was noticeably warmer. Hardacre also noticed that the scattered trees that were clinging to the slopes of the hill all had russet brown leaves upon them, some of which were falling. It seemed that he had walked out of winter into autumn.

The path levelled off and in front of him he could make out, in the gloom, a massive rock structure on the centre of a flat area.  It was another trilithon – a three stone structure made of two upright stones with a stone lying on its side balanced across them – and it was identical to the one that John had described to him on the other side. Hardacre knew exactly what he would find in the centre of the trilithon – the intense blue sphere that led into the Folds. At least none of this was a huge shock, although it was a very disquieting sight: Hardacre had never seen a portal into another universe before.

They walked on to stand beneath the trilithon. The Archon looked at Hardacre, with a wry smile on his face.

‘Welcome to the Portal to the Folds in Skiophos’ he announced. Then he waited to allow Hardacre to stare into the sphere.  The human could see immediately that it was the embodiment of flux – he stared at the streams of blue, flickering and twisting, coming and going. Just like John before him, he had no idea which path would be best to follow. This was a horrible thing to Hardacre, the uncertainty and the structureless form – he felt strength drain from his mind as he contemplated the Folds and the chaos that was the Outer Void. He wanted nothing to do with it at all, now or ever, but duty still called to him.  

 The Archon grinned broadly, his rheumy eyes almost twinkling.

‘A bit scary isn’t it?’ he said.

Hardacre’s gaze, which had been transfixed by the strangeness of the Folds, turned back to the elf.

‘How can this co-exist with our world?’

The Archon chuckled.

‘Your world, Laurence, your world…my world gets along quite well enough without it…’

Hardacre wondered exactly what that meant – he had assumed that the Outer Void filled the space equally between Skiophos and the Twin Worlds of Helios and Nux.

 ‘Let’s get on shall we’ said the Archon, walking through the entrance and on into the stream.

The elf seemed completely at home navigating the strange blue ways of the Folds. They would walk a few steps along one blue path and then others would open up to the left and the right, each one a slightly different shade of blue from the last. The elf would consider for a second and then slip into one of the sub-streams. 

‘His rubbish is sitting in a stream somewhere … one can’t always find it…’

As they followed each apparently random stream Hardacre began to notice something rather odd. Extremely small specks of blue began to accumulate on his skin, like a fine dust, but there was no sign of that happening to the Archon. Hardacre made an ostentatious display of brushing it off.

‘Ah – look at you!’ said the Archon, ‘covered in the little devils already’

Hardacre looked up at him, continuing the act but genuinely worried.

‘Those are Outer Void parasites – thousands of them’

‘How do I get rid of them?’ asked Hardacre, feeling the jelly-like skins of the tiny creatures all over his arm.  They were like miniscule blue hundreds and thousands.

‘They’ll drop off when you get back into Skiophos. Don’t worry: these would take a year or two to kill you’

The Archon sidestepped into one more side stream and then, finally, there was something in front of them. It was a metal canister, about the size of a small child. It had obviously had a top on it once but that was nowhere to be seen.

‘I think he had some chemical in it’ said the Archon, ‘it’s got nothing in it now… I just can’t shift it…’

Hardacre went over to look at it, aware that this was made more difficult by the ever-flowing stream, which constantly tried to take him away from the canister. Inside, the container was empty except for a screwdriver, which Hardacre had assumed had been used to prise open the lid. He pulled the screwdriver out of the canister and put it in his coat pocket, making certain that the Archon had seen him do it.  

‘Why can’t you dispose of it, sir?’ he asked

‘It’s too heavy’ explained the Archon, slightly shamefacedly, ‘and I never bring anyone else into this bit of the Folds, if I can help it’

Hardacre looked up from the canister. 

‘I can destroy it, if that would be useful’

The Archon looked very pleased. It was clear that this had been annoying him for some time.

‘Yes, Laurence, I would very much like you to destroy it’

Hardacre turned to the canister, pointed a finger at it and said ‘doddi’

A red line of light shot out from his finger and struck the canister full on. It wobbled for a second and then fell apart, its structure collapsing as if it had been made of paper. All that was left was a thin layer of dust that was rapidly cleared away by the moving stream.

The Archon nodded at Hardacre, walked over to the place where the canister had sat, and then nodded again.

‘Good work – yes, very good work’  

Hardacre shifted position slightly to correct for the effect of the stream. This was the right moment. He held up the screwdriver.

‘I wondered, sir, if you would allow me to take this tool back into Skiophos and try a little harmless experiment’

The Archon looked over at him, clearly bemused, but quite content.

‘Of course, Laurence – I now owe you a favour’ 

 

***

They walked back away from the folds, through the scrubby area, to a little woodland clearing a few hundred yards out of sight of the Trilithon. Here it was proper, predictable, winter.

Hardacre shook the remaining Outer Void parasites from his skin. He then laid the screwdriver on to the sandy floor and then took his small leather bag from over his shoulder; the bag looked very new. He slipped his hand far further into bag than its apparent size would normally allow and after some groping around pulled out a cage. Inside the cage was a smallish mammal with big eyes and even bigger ears. It looked like a cross between a squirrel and a shrew but with the ears of a fennec fox.

‘What is that?’ asked the Archon, a note of wonder in his voice. 

‘No-one really knows’ answered Hardacre, ‘it appeared in a colleague’s room – several years ago. Since then we’ve had our zoological experts examine it and they’ve all agreed that it must be some form of tree shrew, a tupaia, and that it must come from a tropical region somewhere. However, it has features not normally associated with tree shrews…’

Hardacre unclipped the catch at the top of the cage and the tupaia wriggled out and jumped up into Hardacre’s arms.  As he began to pet it absentmindedly it nuzzled up against his chest and began to buzz. The noise was similar to that made by a large humming bird but many times louder. It was about the most pleasant incredibly loud noise that either of them had ever heard.

‘…as you can see’ Hardacre continued

The Archon was captivated. He had never seen anything like this in any of the three worlds. He couldn’t resist coming forward to pat its head.

‘What does it do?’ he asked, ‘what is it for?’

Hardacre put the Tupaia on the floor. It started to chew some daisies.

‘It’s an herbivore/parasite, apparently’ replied Hardacre, ‘it feeds on herbaceous plants and magical energy. We have no idea why…’

‘So, just then – it was feeding from you?’

‘That’s right, but it’s really not unpleasant’

Hardacre paused.

‘As for what it’s for – it’s for tracking down powerful magical items or persons; in this case, the latter.’
’Sorry, Laurence – what do you mean?’

‘I’ll demonstrate’

Hardacre pushed the tupaia gently towards the screwdiver. She didn’t need a lot of encouragement. She cocked her head left and then right, walked over to the tool and then licked it. Two pairs of white gossamer wings, with a wing span of twice her length appeared from her back.

‘Another un-tree-shrew like characteristic…’ murmured Hardacre. He turned very briefly to address the elf.  

‘This next bit tends to happen very fast, Lord Archon, so I must say ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’. You have been extraordinarily helpful and gracious’

‘What?’ spluttered the Archon.

‘A wormhole will open up in space in a second and I will have to use a special, rather fatiguing… umm… command… in order to follow the tupaia through it’

The Archon’s eyes were now as big as saucers. He was dumbfounded.

The tupaia’s wings flapped twice and a patch of the air in front of her turned pinkish. She jumped up at the patch and then disappeared.

Hardacre hurriedly shouted ‘canlyn’ and vanished too.