Felix and the Red Rats (18 page)

Somewhat confused, the little creature turned to Felix and then to Bella. At the sight of her hair, he smiled briefly, but then confusion returned.

‘We have grown old, Spleen,’ said Uncle Felix sadly, ‘as you appear to have not.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Spleen, ‘I’m not that Spleen. I’m Little Spleen. You’re confusing me with Old Spleen, the one who used to be so cantankerous — you know,
splenetic
.’ He grinned. ‘And I suppose I’m confusing you with the ones in the old tales.’

‘I suppose you must be,’ said Bella. ‘But tell me, Little Spleen, is all well in Axillaris? We have been getting signals that …’

Little Spleen shrugged. ‘As far as I know,’ he said. ‘You know, life goes on.’

I wanted to sit down or at least lean against something. This should not have been happening. Axillaris was made up. Creatures like Little Spleen were made up. You don’t step from a pine forest, through a door and into a made-up book. It was crazy.

I tried to back towards the housing of the ancient machinery, but strangely I couldn’t locate it anymore. Now following the torchlight, I saw that we were no longer in the shed at all. We were in a much larger space with shiny walls and …

‘Where are we?’ I whispered.

Uncle Felix looked my way and said. ‘Oh goodness, I should have explained. We’re in the Way Station of course.’

Bella said, ‘Don’t be silly, Felix. There’s no way we could have explained all that without David thinking we were absolutely doolally!’ And then she turned back to the little twerp. ‘But if everything’s fine in Axillaris, why are we here? Why were we getting signals?’

Again the little creature shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Fortuna may know. I do know one thing, though—’

‘What’s that?’ asked Bella.

‘You are expected.’

‘We are?’

‘Of course! As we speak, Princess Pia herself and Lord Medulla are waiting for you in the Cable-car Station.’

And with that piece of intriguing information, Little Spleen pressed a button and a pair of double doors opened to a cobbled path leading to the Cable-car Station just as Uncle Felix had described it in
Into Axillaris
.

Still in a daze, I followed Uncle Felix and Bella down the path. If anything, the fact that the cobblestones were so hard and very real made everything stranger, more
un
real.

When we entered the terminus I looked around with wonder. The little red cable-car was polished and gleaming just as it had been in
Into Axillaris
; its little mullioned windows made it an interesting mix of technology and romance.

No sooner had we entered than a twerp hurried down the platform towards us.

He smiled amiably and, once he’d ascertained that Uncle Felix and Bella were indeed Uncle Felix and Bella, said, ‘The princess is expecting you. Please follow me.’

We followed the creature along the platform until we reached what looked to be a private waiting room. He knocked quietly and was summoned to enter.

He gestured us in, Bella first, then Uncle Felix and then me.

By this time the part of me that loved the books of Uncle Felix had taken over and I was accepting these strange events and taking them as they came. This being the case, I had to admit I was looking forward to meeting Princess Pia and Medulla. Although, having read the books, of course, I’d met them already in a way.

For that reason, I was very surprised to see not a beautiful long-haired princess in a slender green gown with lovely green eyes, but a rather dumpy elderly lady, with grey hair and wrinkles, so many wrinkles a prune might have looked
smooth beside her. Standing beside her, and leaning on a walking stick was a red-faced bald-headed man with a ring of straggly yellow hair beneath his shining dome.

All at once I realised that in the book Bella and Felix were just school kids whereas Medulla and the princess were already adults.

They could have been twenty years older than Great Uncle Felix.

‘Bella!’ creaked the princess in a croaky voice. ‘That hair gives you away!’

Bella smiled and said, ‘It’s good to see you again, Princess Pia. I must say I never expected to.’

‘Felix?’

The four old people made a bit of a fuss of each other and, once I’d been introduced and commented on, they chattered away like people do who haven’t seen each other for ages and ages.

I thought it a little odd that this was such a private audience. I had thought there might have been courtiers hanging around, fetching and carrying and bringing glasses of wine and little nibbles.

However, it appeared that the audience was private for a very particular reason.

‘I suppose,’ said Princess Pia at length, ‘you are wondering why Fortuna has brought you back to Axillaris.’

‘We did rather,’ said Bella, glancing at Uncle Felix.

‘The message was delivered in quite a disconcerting way,’ said Bella.

‘Red faces all round,’ said Uncle Felix.

‘Oh dear,’ said the princess, suddenly possessed of a sneeze, the remains of which she wiped wetly and ineptly away.

Medulla took over while she recovered. ‘Fortuna, of course, is governed by a wheel,’ he began.

I remembered. The wheel of fortune … And I remembered, too, that Bella’s talk at the festival was on that very topic.

‘And the wheel has almost come full circle.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Uncle Felix.

‘It’s easy enough,’ said the princess. ‘You and Bella were instrumental in saving the kingdom by solving the riddle and freeing us from the tyranny of my evil uncle.’

‘You want us to solve another riddle?’ asked Bella.

‘No,’ said the princess. ‘The wheel has come full circle. Soon, not too soon, I hope, I will pass on. Medulla, too. We have a daughter who will, I trust, take over from us once she has solved the Succession Riddle.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ said Bella.

‘The trouble is,’ said Medulla gloomily, ‘we don’t have a Succession Riddle. The crystal vase has already been fashioned by our master glass-blower. The crown we have, but the vase waits for a riddle …’

‘So you don’t want us to solve a riddle,’ said Uncle Felix.

‘We want you to provide us with a riddle,’ said Medulla. ‘Here, in private, high above any prying eyes and listening ears.’

‘Hmm,’ murmured Uncle Felix. ‘You should really know what mayhem this request has caused back there.’

‘It wouldn’t have, Felix,’ Bella reminded him sweetly, ‘if you’d checked the lock properly the first time.’

‘Oh, rats,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘Anyway, I’m lousy with riddles. You do it. You do another magic square thing.’

‘I rather think,’ said the princess, ‘that people know the trick of the magic square here now. They’re just about a national pastime.’

I thought about the mayhem Fortuna or whatever had caused trying to signal Uncle Felix. First the rats, then the cat, and finally Gray …

I racked my brains.

Uncle Felix, noticing my concentration, said, ‘Go for it, David. There must be a reason why we both felt a compelling need to bring you along.’

I looked at him.

‘I rather feel,’ he added, ‘that you’re the one to do it this time.’

I kept thinking, letting my mind dance.

And then I did have it.

It was silly, really, like all stupid word games. But this one, given all that had happened, seemed quite right. It was based on a little exercise our teacher used to do with us when there was a spare five minutes. I tried to formulate the best way to express it.

‘I think I have one,’ I said. ‘It’s not very good, though.’

All four looked at me expectantly.

‘I’ll need some paper.’

Medulla handed me a sheet of paper and a pen.

‘Okay, here goes.’ I looked up grinning. ‘How can you turn a rat red in three short steps?’

Bella laughed and Uncle Felix smiled.

‘Perfect,’ cried the princess, clapping her hands, and Medulla said, ‘Well done!’

They looked at me.

‘What?’

‘You haven’t given us the answer,’ said the princess worriedly. ‘Is there one?’

I grinned again. ‘Of course. It goes like this …’

I spread out the paper on the bench I was sitting on and then wrote:

‘See,’ I said, ‘three steps.’

‘I do hope,’ said Bella, ‘that this is the one step that will turn certain red rats white again.’

Wonderfully, Bella hoped right.

The Princess and Medulla had wanted us to stay, but Felix refused them gently, saying there was coffee waiting. I knew the real reason was his keenness to get back to see whether the signals had been switched off.

They had been.

When we arrived back in the living room, not only was the rest of the family still sitting around the table, but Gray was, too.

He was no longer red.

Stranger still, he was grinning.

‘Well?’ asked Uncle Felix.

‘It’s over,’ said Mum. ‘Gray, the rats …’

‘Rusty?’ I asked.

‘Who cares?’ said Martha.

‘Coffee?’ asked Dad.

‘How did you guys do it?’ asked Gray, looking at Uncle Felix with more respect, and at Bella with curiosity.

‘Oh,’ said Uncle Felix, breezily, ‘it’s all far too long and complicated to tell you right now, Gray.’

‘Try me,’ said Gray.

Uncle Felix shook his head. ‘It involves magic,’ he said, and he smiled at Gray, ‘real magic, this time, not trickery magic.’

Gray had the grace to blush.

‘But I’ll tell you what,’ added Uncle Felix, tugging at his moustache. ‘I reckon David could write it all down for you one day.’

‘I just might,’ I said.

The Enchanted Flute

The Loblolly Boy and the Sorcerer

The Loblolly Boy

The Assassin of Gleam

The Carousel Experiment

The Emerald Encyclopaedia

Penguin Bay

Under the Rotunda

Shadow Play

Packing a Bag for Mars

Villon in Millerton

Along Blueskin Road

Rat Tickling

A Kind of Kingdom

Letters to Dr Dee

The Sportsman & Other Poems

The Chinese Interpreter

Big Sky
with Bernadette Hall, 2003

Five
Re-Draft
annual collections with Alan Bunn, 2001–2005

Seven Re-Draft annual collections with Tessa Duder,  2006–2012

The Past & Other Countries

James Norcliffe has published a collection of short stories,
The Chinese Interpreter
, and eight collections of poetry, most recently
Packing a Bag for
Mars
(Clerestory Press), new and selected poems aimed at younger readers and illustrated by Jenny Cooper.

He has written several fantasy novels for young people including the award-winning
The Loblolly Boy
, which was published in the United States as
The Boy Who Could Fly
.

For a number of years now he has edited the annual
Re-Draft
anthologies of poetry and writing by young people, initially with Alan Bunn and now with Tessa Duder. He is poetry editor for the Christchurch
Press
and teaches in Lincoln University’s Foundation Studies department.

He has won a number of awards for both his poetry and his writing for young people. With Bernadette Hall he was presented with a
Press
Literary Liaisons Honour Award for lasting contribution to literature in the South Island.

James has been awarded writing fellowships both in New Zealand and overseas. He publishes poetry widely internationally and has read at festivals and occasions throughout New Zealand as well as in Australia, Canada, the United States and Colombia.

He has lived and worked for extended periods in Asia (China and Brunei Darussalam) but currently lives at Church Bay near Christchurch, spending what little spare time he has with his family, listening to music and creating a garden.