The Eye of Zoltar

The third traveller was tall and slender, and rubbed his hands together nervously when he spoke. He seemed the least idiotic of the trio and looked to be here as a hanger-on, probably against his better judgement.

‘Hello,’ he said quietly, ‘Ralph D. Nalor. Pleased to meet you. I’m – um – twenty in June.’

‘Anything else?’ I asked.

He thought for a moment.

‘Nothing springs to mind.’

After shaking hands – it was best to at least attempt to get along, I felt – and after they’d stored our baggage in the back of the half-track, Addie told us she wanted our attention.

‘Right,’ she said, climbing on to the half-track’s bonnet to address us, ‘the first thing to remember is there is only one rule: do as I tell you, no matter how insane. If we are held up by armed bandits, I do the talking. If we are all kidnapped, I do the talking. If you are kidnapped, then make polite conversation with your captors until I come to bargain for your release. That might take up to a year but I will come. Trying to escape is considered unspeakably rude, as is wailing, crying and pleading for your life, and is the quickest and easiest way to get yourself killed. The tribes who populate the Cambrian Empire are a murderous bunch of cut-throats, bandits and ne’er-do-wells, but they are polite, hospitable and won’t tolerate bad manners. Does everyone understand?’

‘Yeah, little girl, anything you say,’ said Curtis with a smirk.

Addie looked at him for moment, made a quick movement and in a moment her dagger had punctured Curtis’ collar and pinned him to the tree upon which he leaned.

‘Sorry,’ said Addie, ‘did you say something?’

‘I said,’ replied Curtis, firmly rattled, ‘that you’re totally the boss-dude.’

‘Okay. Now, altogether: what’s the one rule?’

‘Do as you say,’ we all said in unison.

‘Stand on one leg,’ said Addie, and we duly complied.

‘Good,’ she said, and five minutes later we pulled the half-track onto the road and headed off into the interior of the Cambrian Empire.

Addie explains

We headed north along the main Cambrianopolis road. I was driving with the Helping Hand^™ making easy work of the half-track’s ridiculously heavy steering. Perkins was in the passenger seat with Addie sitting between us, with the Princess just behind. The fields we drove past contained cultivated almond tree groves, from which refined Marzoleum was derived, a syrupy oil that could be used for fondant icing, sunblock, window putty, aviation spirit – and pretty much anything else in between. Curtis and his friends had been standing up in the back because they thought it looked cool and manly until the dust, flies and road debris got in their eyes and mouths, so with eyes streaming and throats sore, they bravely sat in the rear instead.

I looked back to make sure they weren’t within earshot, then said to Addie:

‘Why were you so keen for Curtis and his dopey friends to come along?’

‘Simple. We need those three to make up the fifty per cent fatalities.’

This made me uneasy.

‘That’s not a great thing to hear.’

‘Perhaps not, but this is: you’ll go home safely and Curtis and his losers get to be the honoured dead. What’s not great about that?’

‘A lot,’ I replied. ‘Everyone matters, even those three.’

‘I don’t think that they do,’ said the Princess, who had been listening in to the conversation. ‘If they never came back it wouldn’t change much. Their families would be a bit glum but I dare say they’d get over it. Besides, you don’t come to Cambria without accepting at least the possibility of tragedy.’

‘I know you’re not actually a handmaiden,’ said Addie astutely, ‘what with your unservantlike manner and all, but you speak my language.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ I replied. ‘I’m not having those three used as cannon fodder.’

‘They knew the risks,’ said Addie, ‘and so did you when you agreed to the trip. I offered you a fifty per cent Fatality Index, and you accepted it. No point getting all precious about it now.’

‘We were taking the responsibility for ourselves,’ I said, ‘not other people.’

‘And you still are,’ said Addie with a shrug. ‘I can only guarantee the fifty per cent. I can’t say for certain who will live and who will die.’

Addie’s logic was somewhat strange, but did ring true – sort of. We a fell silent for a few moments.

‘Have you lost many tourists?’ asked Perkins.

‘Hundreds,’ said Addie in a nonchalant manner. ‘I used to keep count but after a while, there were just too many. You always remember the first and the youngest and the one you liked the most, but after that they’re simply a blur.’

‘Wait a moment,’ said the Princess. ‘Jennifer, myself, Porkins, you, Ignatius, Ralph and Curtis only make up seven. If you expect a fifty per cent casualty rate, how’s that meant to work?’

‘We’ll pick up someone on the trip,’ said Addie, ‘we always do. It’ll pan out correctly, you’ll see. I have a gift.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ said the Princess. ‘What’s that up ahead?’