The Eye of Zoltar

We were at a muddy section of the road, and Addie was pointing at the tracks. One was deep and well defined while the other vehicle had hardly made any imprint at all.

‘One’s laden and the other not,’ I said. ‘So what?’

‘Because,’ said Addie, ‘the one that’s heavy is the one going towards the mountains – the lighter of the two is coming out.’

‘They’re delivering components to the mountains?’ I said. ‘That makes no sense at all.’

It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed this. The first two Skybus lorries I’d seen had been halted while their drivers chatted. The one heading out accelerated away more easily than the one heading in.

‘These vehicles are delivering something to the Idris mountains,’ I said slowly, ‘but what?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Addie, ‘but I’d like to find out.’

‘What about Curtis and the half-track?’ I asked.

‘Just there,’ said Addie, pointing at a ghost of an imprint on the dusty roadway, ‘and by the look of it, he passed through here yesterday afternoon about midday. If he stopped for the night, he may be only six or seven hours’ drive ahead.’

‘It’s not so much his capture or punishment I’m interested in,’ I said, ‘even though such a thing would be welcome. I’m really after the half-track, or to be more exact, my bag and what’s in it.’

It was the conch, of course, the Helping Hand^™ – I’d get hell from Lady Mawgon for losing it – and the letter of credit to negotiate for Boo’s release.

‘We better get a move on, then,’ said Addie.

Perkins rubbed his head when I woke him. His new age had established itself more firmly overnight. His voice was deeper, his face more lined, his hair greyer. He moved with the more measured certainty of someone entering their fifth decade, and seemed more thoughtful in his responses – and was painfully stiff after the cold night in the cave.

‘Ooh, bloody hell,’ he said, rubbing his legs.

‘Welcome to the club,’ said Wilson, who’d had longer to acclimatise to the myriad changes that advanced age wrought upon the human body, ‘and don’t worry if you start forgetting the names of things or being less sharp than you once were. You may even have trouble … have trouble, um …’

‘Finishing your sentences?’ put in Perkins.

‘Exactly so. All entirely normal. But with age comes wisdom.’

‘I think wisdom comes with years, not age,’ replied Perkins sadly. ‘I’ve managed to separate the two. I think I’m going to be old without wisdom.’

‘If that is the case,’ said Wilson, ‘you won’t be alone.’

Addie suggested we let the Skybus trucks have half an hour’s start so we would not be observed, but it took that long to get the goats herded into the trailer as they had a certain bounciness about them that didn’t permit easy herding.

‘They’re called ISGs,’ explained Addie once we had rounded up the goats and coaxed the ancient jeep’s engine into life, ‘for International Standard Goat. They’re a sort of one-size-fits-all-goat that does everything pretty well: climb, give lots of milk, soft fur, excellent meat. It was the legacy of Emperor Tharv’s father, who became convinced that what the world really needed was animal standardisation. He managed to standardise the goat, honey bee, badger and hamster, and was working on the bird kingdom when he died.’

‘It’s why so many birds are small and brown,’ explained Wilson, ‘so he had moderate success.’

We drove for two hours, stopping to fill up the jeep’s leaky radiator three times. We climbed steadily up the rough, winding track and once on the high Plynlimon pass we stopped for a moment to stretch our legs, change drivers and make a short devotion at the shrine dedicated to the once popular but now little known St Aosbczkcs, the patron saint of fading relevance. This done, we surveyed the scene that was laid before us.

Below us were bumpy foothills through which we could see the road slowly winding down towards the fertile valley floor, a random patchwork of natural woodland and open grassland. But beyond this valley and dominating our view was the place in which the Leviathans’ Graveyard and Sky Pirate Wolff’s hideout were most likely to be hidden: Cadair Idris. Although I’d seen pictures, the mountain was even more spectacular in real life. Sheer walls towered vertically from the valley floor, presenting a dizzying pinnacle of grey rock that was awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure. High waterfalls cascaded into space from high on the sheer rock walls where the water dispersed into clouds of water droplets that formed clouds that clung to the lower reaches of the mountain. Although it was reputedly the second-highest mountain in the unUnited Kingdoms after the peak named T4 in the Trollvanian range, the exact height of Cadair Idris had never been fully determined. The summit had never been out of cloud in living memory, making a triangulation survey impossible. ‘Between six and seven thousand feet’ was a pretty good guess. When the sun rose in the morning, the shadow of the rock would extend across three kingdoms.