The Ice Gate of Spyre (7 page)

Meanwhile, as Trundle stared speechless, Jack and Ishmael had joined them. Esmeralda grabbed the nearest meerkat by the collar.

“We need to get to the Ice Gate as quickly as possible, my lad,” she said in her best no-nonsense voice. “Can you take us there?”

The meerkat nodded frantically. “Sure thing,” he yammered. “But Ice Gate is an expensive tour. Normally ten sunders each. I can do it for seven. Special party rate. Why not? My uncle Flogger works in the pilgrim hospitality department.” He blinked from one to the other of them, rubbing his paws together and grinning hopefully. “Is that a good deal?”

“Try five sunders each,” suggested Esmeralda.

The meerkat turned to Trundle and winked. “Your lovely wife—she knows how to haggle, yes?”

Trundle nearly jumped out of his boots at the suggestion that he was married to Esmeralda. “Excuse me,” he gasped, his face going pale at the very thought. “We are
not
married!”

At this the meerkat grinned wider than ever and gave him a long, slow wink from behind his wire spectacles. “That’s fine, too!” he said. “None of my business.” He swung around to look at Esmeralda. “Look, I cut my own throat, but I like you,” he announced. “Five sunders it is. Come, come—we start tour now. I’ll take you up One Thousand Steps of Radiant Wisdom. You’ll like that!”

“And will that get us to the Ice Gate before sunset?” asked Jack.

“Sure thing, boss,” replied the grinning meerkat. “I do that for you, no problem.” He patted his chest. “My name is Wingnut Flange, but you call me Wingnut, why not?”

Trundle and Esmeralda looked at each other.

“Well?” said Trundle. “Why not, indeed!”

“M
aking way, here!” shouted Wingnut, catching hold of Esmeralda’s arm and towing her through the clamoring crowd of meerkats. “These pilgrims very much spoken for! Lay off! Party of four coming through!”

Trundle and Jack darted after them, Jack taking a firm grip on Ishmael to make sure he stayed with their party. You never could tell what Ishmael would do next, and if the old hare went wandering off in this crush of people, they might never find him again.

Wingnut led them away from Boardwall and up through the narrow, teeming streets of Downtown. Trundle wished they had time to take in the sights as they rushed past an endless array of colorful pilgrim gift stores and restaurants and boardinghouses and tea shops, not to mention all the stands that littered the streets, selling every kind of bric-a-brac imaginable.

Wingnut slowed down as they reached the foot of a wide stone stairway that zigzagged its way through the commotion and confusion of Downtown. Masses of people were trekking up and down the broad staircase, many of them led by meerkats bearing a remarkable resemblance to Wingnut.

“This is One Thousand Steps of Radiant Wisdom,” he said, coming to a halt under a high wooden arch hung with bells and silken streamers. He raised an eyebrow and held out a paw. “You pay now, please, and Wingnut will guide you good.”

Esmeralda counted out a handful of sunders that instantly vanished into the deep pockets of Wingnut’s oversized shorts.

“You’re fine folk!” he said. “I give you best tour ever!”

“We’re on a bit of a deadline, Wingnut,” said Esmeralda.

“That’s fine, too!”

“We must make hay while the shoe shines,” added Ishmael. “Don’t put all your legs in one trouser.”

Wingnut blinked at him. “Oooohh,” he breathed at last. “That’s one wise fella!”

Trundle did his best to suppress an explosion of laughter.

“He certainly has a unique perspective on things,” said Jack, chuckling.

“He’s crazy,” said Esmeralda. “Lead on, Wingnut! Sharp’s the word.”

The meerkat pointed to a skinny side street that led off from the foot of the One Thousand Steps of Radiant Wisdom. “Before we begin the climb, we partake of nice cup of tea and optional bun.” He grinned, nodding rapidly. “It is tradition. All pilgrims do it.”

“We can’t waste time, you know,” said Esmeralda. “We need to get right up to the top before sunset.”

“No problem. Plenty of time,” insisted Wingnut. “Very bad luck for pilgrims to travel steps without first taking tea.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Would fall and break a leg, for sure!”

“I suppose we’d better keep to the traditions,” said Trundle.

“I’m sure we can spare a few minutes,” added Jack. “After all, how long can it take to drink a cup of tea?”

“Hard a-port!” declared Ishmael. “Run out the buns!”

Wingnut pointed at Ishmael. “He’s totally correct. You are my friends. I lead you plenty good, no fooling.”

“Oh, come on then,” Esmeralda said reluctantly. “Let’s get it over with.”

They trailed after Wingnut along the little side street until they came to a rickety gangplank that led to a dilapidated old windship. A sign hung over the front of the gangplank:
THE MAGNANIMOUS RISSOLE RESTAURANT
.

“Well, look at that,” said Jack. “It’s the place that was mentioned in the guide. Esmeralda, you had those free vouchers last. Do you still have them on you?”

“No, they got lost,” Esmeralda said quickly.

“I saw you tuck them away in your bodice,” said Trundle helpfully. “I bet they’re still there, despite the crash and everything.”

“You have vouchers?” Wingnut said brightly. “That’s good news! That means you can have tea
and
a free meal! All in! You lucky people!”

“Oh, well done, Trundle,” growled Esmeralda, handing over the vouchers. “I was faking it to save us time—now we have to eat as well!”

“Well,
I
didn’t know,” said Trundle. “And anyway, I’m hungry after that long climb. We can easily afford a few minutes for lunch.”

“You’d better be right!”

Wingnut led them up the gangplank and in through a door in the hull of the windship. It was quite dark and stuffy inside, and the place smelled of burned cooking fat. A few dingy tables were scattered around, lit by candles in bottles. There were no other guests, and Trundle noticed that the floor could do with a good sweeping.

“This restaurant is run by my cousin Rachette. It’s very good, yes? Very exclusive. You pick a table, I’ll go speak with chef. Tell her you’re in a big hurry.”

The four companions selected the least grubby-looking table and sat down while Wingnut went scuttling off through a pair of swing doors.

“It could be worse,” Trundle said, rubbing a smear off the knife that was set in front of him.

“Could it?” said Esmeralda. “How?”

They heard voices arguing from beyond the swing doors. One was Wingnut’s, and the other came from a female who was giving him a very hard time, by the sound of it.

Shortly the doors burst open and a plump meerkat emerged, wearing a grimy apron and a fierce and fixed expression. She was carrying a tray upon which stood a large teapot and a set of four small, round cups. Without speaking, she slammed the tray down on the table, revolved on her heels, and stalked back to the kitchen.

Wingnut came trotting over to the table, wringing his hands and smiling. “Cousin Rachette is in a bit of a snit,” he told them. “She doesn’t like being told to hurry up. But it’s okay. I smooth it all over for you. No problems. Why not?”

The swing doors banged open, and Rachette was with them again. This time she smacked a plate down on the table. “Optional bun!” she declared, and was gone again before anyone could respond.

Trundle stared at the single wrinkled old roll.

“Hmm,” said Jack, pouring the tea. “I think that bun ought to have been put out of its misery some time ago.”

Wingnut glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “No need to eat bun,” he whispered. “Plenty more food coming right up.”

Trundle sipped the tea. It was very hot and rather stewed and tasted like a cross between dandelions and old socks. He saw Wingnut watching him. “Delicious,” he said diplomatically, putting down the cup. Judging from the expressions on Jack and Esmeralda’s faces, they didn’t think much of the tea either, but Ishmael gulped it down, smacked his lips, and poured himself a second cup.

“Handsomely does it now,” he said. “Over the lips and past the gums, watch out, gizzard, here it comes!”

“He’s a real big connoisseur,” said Wingnut with awe in his voice. “Not everyone appreciates Cousin Rachette’s tea.”

They became aware of a squeaking rumble coming from the direction of the kitchen. Moments later, the doors flew open and a large trolley came rolling toward them on shrieking wheels. It was being pushed by three meerkats in stained overalls. On a huge plate atop the trolley sat a steaming rissole—fully half a yard across and at least a foot thick.

“Complimentary rissole thanks to voucher!” explained Wingnut as the four friends goggled at the vast glistening mound. “Specialty of the house. Pilgrim guests must eat it all up for luck! Very bad manners to leave any.”

Esmeralda glared at Trundle. “See what you’ve landed us with?” she hissed. “You and your big mouth!”

Trundle stared uneasily at the enormous rissole as it was loaded onto their table, taking up most of the surface. He gulped and reached for his knife and fork.

They had some heavy work ahead of them!

“My stomach feels like I’ve eaten an entire poached walrus, tusks and all,” groaned Jack as the four friends staggered breathlessly up the first few of the One Thousand Steps of Radiant Wisdom, some half an hour later. “What was that thing made of—old cannonballs?”

“Cousin Rachette, she makes plenty fine stomach filler, yes?” said Wingnut, turning back to grin at his four laboring and lagging pilgrims.

“Stomach filler?” gasped Trundle. “I feel like I’m full to the eyebrows.”

“Eyebrows nothing,” moaned Esmeralda. “That stuff is coming out of my ears!”

“Very tasty,” commented Ishmael, picking at his teeth with an extended claw. “Very sweet. Full of goodness. It went down a treat!”

“What did I tell you?” said Wingnut. “He’s one big connoisseur of fine food.”

“Just get us up this staircase,” demanded Esmeralda, clutching her midriff. “And no more distractions.”

“Sure thing,” said Wingnut, whom Trundle had noticed had not eaten a single mouthful of his cousin’s rissole. “Why not?”

But the trek up the stairway wasn’t quite that easy. The stairs were full of people coming and going, as well as masses of touts and hawkers and peddlers trying their best to get Trundle and the others to buy their gifts and souvenirs.

Progress was so slow that eventually Esmeralda lost her temper. She grabbed Wingnut and brought his snout right up to hers. “Now listen here, Mr. Flange,” she snarled. “It’s well past midday. You promised you’d get us all the way up to the top. So snap to it—find us a quicker way, or I’ll tie your ears to your feet and use you as a hoop!”

Wingnut stared at her in consternation. “You don’t like cultural artifacts and purchasing opportunities on the way to radiant wisdom?” he asked in obvious surprise.

“No, I don’t!” Esmeralda yelled.

Wingnut grinned. “You’re one feisty lady,” he said. “I’ll take you on an express route. Not usually for pilgrims, but I’ll do a special favor for good friends, why not? This way for quick trip to top!”

So saying, he dived off to one side, with Trundle and the others in hot pursuit. He led them through alleys and passageways until they came to a door that bore the legend
GARDEN OF SERENITY
.