The Eye of Zoltar

‘Three hours,’ I said, ‘four, tops. Which sorcerers are on duty right now?’

Tiger consulted a clipboard.

‘Lady Mawgon and the Wizard Moobin,’ he replied.

‘I’ll help out,’ said Perkins, who was standing next to me. ‘I haven’t been terrified for – ooh – at least a couple of days.’

Perkins was Kazam’s youngest and newest graduate, having had a licence for less than a week. He was eighteen, so two years older than me, and while not that powerful magically, showed good promise – most sorcerers didn’t start doing any really useful magic until their thirties. More interestingly, Perkins and I had been about to have our first date when the call came in, but that was going to have to wait.

‘Okay,’ I said to Tiger, ‘fetch Mawgon and Moobin, and you should also call Once Magnificent Boo.’

‘Got it,’ said Tiger.

‘Take a rain check on that date?’ I said, turning to Perkins. ‘In the Magic Industry, it’s kind of “Spell First, Fun Second”.’

‘I kind of figured that,’ he replied, ‘so why don’t we make this assignment the date? Intimate candlelit dinners for two are wildly overrated. I could even bring some sandwiches and a Thermos of hot chocolate.’

‘Okay,’ I said, touching his hand, ‘you’re on. A sort of romantic uncandlelit “recapturing a dangerously savage beast for two” sort of date – but no dressing up and we split the cost.’

‘Game on. I’ll go and make some sandwiches and that Thermos.’

And with another chuckle, he left.

While I waited for the other sorcerers to arrive, I read what I could about Tralfamosaurs in the Codex Magicalis, which wasn’t much. The creature was created magically in the 1780s on the order of the Cambrian Empire’s 1st Emperor Tharv because he wanted ‘a challenging beast to hunt for sport’, a role it played with all due savagery. Even today, over two hundred years later, people still pay good money to try to hunt them, usually with fatal consequences for the hunter. Oddly, this made Tralfamosaur hunting more popular as it seemed citizens were becoming increasingly fond of danger in these modern, safety-conscious times. The Cambrian Empire was now making good money out of what it called ‘jeopardy tourism’ – holidays for those seeking life-threatening situations.

The first to arrive in the lobby was Wizard Moobin, who, unlike all the other sorcerers, was barely insane at all. Aside from his usual magical duties he also worked in magic research and development. Last month, Moobin’s team had been working on a spell for turning oneself momentarily to rubber to survive a fall, the use of instantaneous ‘turning to stone’ enchantments as a way of transporting badly damaged accident victims to surgery, and a method of reliable communication using snails. Aside from this he was good company, aged a little over forty, and was at least polite and gave me due respect for my efforts. Tiger and I liked him a great deal.

‘The Tralfamosaur escaped,’ I told him when he walked into the lobby, ‘when you and Patrick surged this afternoon during the bridge rebuilding. Two quarter-ton blocks of stone were catapulted into the sky.’

‘I wondered what happened to them,’ said Moobin thoughtfully.

‘One fell to earth harmlessly in an orchard near Belmont, and the other landed on the Ross-to-Hereford branch line, derailing a train that was transporting the Tralfamosaur to Woburn Safari Park as part of some sort of dangerous animal exchange deal.’

‘Ah,’ said Moobin, ‘so we’re kind of responsible for this, aren’t we?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ I replied, ‘and it’s already eaten three people.’

‘Whoops,’ said Moobin.

‘Whoops nothing,’ said Lady Mawgon, who had arrived with Tiger close behind, ‘civilians have to take risks with the rest of us.’

Unlike Moobin, Lady Mawgon was not our favourite sorcerer, but was undeniably good at what she did. She was originally the official sorcerer to the Kingdom of Kent before the downturn of magical power, but her fall from that lofty status had made her frosty and ill tempered. She had recently entered her seventieth decade, scowled constantly, and had the unsettling habit of gliding everywhere rather than walking, as if beneath the folds of her large black dress she was wearing roller skates.

‘Even so,’ I said diplomatically, ‘it’s probably not a good idea to let the Tralfamosaur eat people.’

‘I suppose not,’ conceded Lady Mawgon. ‘What about Once Magnificent Boo?’

‘Already in hand,’ I replied, indicating where Tiger was speaking on the phone.