Modern Magick

The Fifth Britain: 17

Jay, of course, could boast only short acquaintance with any of us, so I'd left him with no argument to offer. He merely shrugged.

I looked at Alban. 'Was there anyone else from the Troll Court present?'

'Other than Garrogin? I don't think so.'

'Not caring about Garrogin.'

He smiled faintly. 'Nor I.'

I felt something nosing at my leg, and looked down.

A tiny hound waved its tail at me. It had sunny-yellow fur, an enormous nose, and a single horn protruding from its furry forehead.

'Pup?' I gasped, disbelieving. It couldn't be the same one, could it? My own little friend, taken away with Miranda when she left?

Dwina, said Melmidoc in mild reproof. Pray do not inconvenience our guests.

No, of course it wasn't the same one.

I took a moment to check that my valuables were still in places like around-my-neck and circling-my-wrist and not, say, in the mouth of the adorable creature staring up at me with deceptive innocence. They were.

'Are there a lot of these hounds about?' I asked.

I am embarrassed to confess that they have proved much more fertile than we ever anticipated. Indeed, they have become more and more so... There is now a large population of them across Whitmore.

Or in other words, they were reaching pest proportions.

That explained why they kept wandering into cottages and farmhouses and ending up in our Britain.

I stooped to pat Dwina, pleased she'd chosen to show up at that moment. It reminded me of my priorities.

I might consent to leave the place without Zareen, but there was no conceivable way I was leaving without my pup.

'Did we come up with a way to get everyone into the farmhouse?' I asked aloud.

We did not, Melmidoc answered. But I did. You may leave it to me.

Melmidoc took us down from the peak shortly afterwards, parking his beautiful spire on the edge of the cliff once more. We emerged into late afternoon sun, which instantly prompted so huge a yawn from me that I felt embarrassed. It occurred to me that the time back in the sixth Britain must be at least four in the morning; no wonder I was tired. Hopping between worlds, that was next-level jetlag.

Millie's farmhouse loitered casually at the end of a short, narrow street otherwise lined with rather smaller timber-framed houses. As we approached, I received the impression that she was trying to look inconspicuous (do not ask me how a farmhouse contrives to look ostentatiously inconspicuous; I haven't a hope of explaining anything so absurd). She wasn't getting very far with it.

Her door flew open at Jay's approach, with such vigour as to send it slamming against the wall with a terrific thunk. I took it as the building equivalent of a huge smile. Jay! she boomed joyfully, and the floor shook. Come back, come back, I have been so lonesome without you.

I wondered idly what it was about Jay that people took such a fancy to him. Odd types, too. Last week it had been the dragon Archibaldo, who was still campaigning for Jay's instalment as Mayor of Dapplehaven. This week, a psychotic haunted house with pretty manners and a taste for striped furniture. And even Melmidoc seemed to have a soft spot for him, though I judged he would never admit it. What next?

'Reminds me,' I whispered to Jay as we (Jay, the Baron and I) trooped through the farmhouse's front door. 'Why did you make me wait, when you first went in here?'