Page 58 of The Neverfear

Anya grinned. ‘It doesn’t take up much room, Jacques, to be fair.’

‘That is not my complaint! It … it turned itself into me, and then it … but I cannot say what it did!’

‘What did it do?’ said Anya instantly.

‘It farted! In my face! To fart in one’s own face! To witness one’s own sphincter at such close quarters! Unthinkable!’

They were saved from replying, much to Christopher’s relief – the struggle not to laugh was considerable – by a cry from Ratwin. ‘Comings-up in to docks! There’s a crowd-horde!’

‘Christopher,’ said Anya in a low voice. ‘I’ve just thought – how will the Astorians know where to come to get the apple?’

‘We’ll have to take the mirror out again.’

Anya ran down into the boat and came back with the mirror, handling it like it might explode. Christopher held it up, sweeping it around the dock as they sailed into the bustling, thronging port. Then he laid it flat in the prow of the boat. ‘I’m going to ride in the Race of Thieves,’ he said to the mirror.

‘And he’s going to win,’ said Anya.

There was an orange-and-black flicker in the corner of the mirror, as if a tail had whipped out of sight.

Dozens of boats were heading into the quay. Ratwin expertly navigated them in among the sails, guided by a sharp-faced boy who hurried to take the mooring rope. He offered his hand as they stepped ashore, bowing low.

‘Welcome, travellers, to Cenia, capital of Ceren, on this fabulous day – the Race of Thieves!’ The boy appeared to be waiting for something. Then: ‘I don’t bow for free, you know.’

‘We didn’t ask you to bow,’ said Jacques. ‘Feel free to take it back, if you wish.’

Anya, though, just raised an eyebrow and gave a quarter-smile, then tossed the boy a coin. ‘You can keep an eye on the boat. Which way,’ she asked, ‘for the race?’

‘Just follow the crowd,’ said the boy. ‘It starts at dusk, so I’d hurry if I was you, if you want a good spot.’ He eyed them; the last days had not done much for their clothing and cleanliness. ‘I’m quite glad not to be you, to be honest.’

‘Then I suggest that you be less honest,’ said Anya. And she swept away, swords at her back, blonde hair trailing behind her. She grinned at Christopher. ‘That was smile number sixteen of the official royal smiles: haughty but essentially benevolent.’

The vast crowds were all headed in one direction, jostling, laughing, arguing, eating peanuts and swigging from hip flasks. Anya spotted a row of sleek open carriages pulled by twrch tryths, each filling up with a dozen passengers.

‘You want the square?’ said a driver as they approached. He had clusters of dark warts across his face and down his thick neck. ‘Transport to the city square?’

‘We want the Race of Thieves,’ said Christopher.

‘Don’t say it aloud, fool! Just, the square. And a wink.’

‘I can’t winks,’ said Ratwin. She blinked instead, meaningfully.

The driver sighed. ‘Get in,’ he said. ‘All of you. The dragon’s free if he flies, but if he lands, then you have to pay. Give the money to the mouse.’

‘The mouse?’

‘Batrachomyomachian mouse. His name is Troxartes.’

The mouse hurried eagerly forward, proffering a silk purse in his paws for their coins. They were followed on to the carriage by three men and a tall, muscular woman, all of them wearing hoods that cast their faces in shadow.

Anya raised her eyebrows at Christopher. ‘Subtle,’ she whispered. ‘Not at all suspicious.’

The carriage bore them down broad avenues into the city. The streets were cobbled and the buildings towered over them in red and yellow stone. It was an ancient and sumptuous place, but its grandeur was that of a long-declining city: walls eroded by time, and wild pink-flowered creepers growing up street lamps.

The mouse appeared at Christopher’s elbow.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving in ten minutes. Please ensure that you have all your personal belongings with you, and that you do not dismount the carriage until it has come to a complete standstill, lest you be dashed to the ground and your brains fall out on to the cobbles.’

‘Right,’ said Anya. ‘Good to know.’