Carpet Diem Page 5

  “A what curse?”

  Daniel smiled smugly.

  “Well,” Daniel began, “Faunt was once just a man who angered the wrong woman. In retaliation, she cursed him with a triptychal naming spell. She gave him the name ‘Faunt’. Imbued in that name were three aspects. The first, and the one you know about, was from the word ‘fount’, as in ‘fount of information’, meaning he would know virtually everything. The second part was from the name ‘Faust’, the literary character who made a deal with ‘the Devil’, and lost his soul into the bargain. The third part ... I’m going to let you see for yourself.”

  “Triptychal naming spells are quite common, as curses go,” Lily added. “Names have a lot of power, and triptychal names have more than others.”

  “Oh,” said Simon, who now very much wished he hadn’t asked, because either he didn’t really understand or he did understand and the world was even more terrifying than it had been five minutes ago.

  As always, in time of stress, Simon fell back on his internal reserves. “I think I should eat something – it’s nearly 11 o’clock.”

  “It’s OK, honey,” Lily stroked his arm. “We’ll eat on the way to the airport.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Having a credit card underwritten by the Bank of Creation means no fare is too big or too last minute. It also means first class. After all, who would travel economy if they usually flew with their own wings? Assuming they actually had wings, of course. Simon was taking nothing for granted.

  Having never travelled first class before, he was sort of looking forward to the idea. Sort of, in that, of course, it was the least unpleasant and terrifying thing about making him leave his house for the first time in thirteen years. To do so, having given him all of an hour’s warning to dress and prepare himself, and without actually telling him where they were going, seemed to Simon not a little unfair.

  To help take his mind off it, Lily had nipples again.

  In his old life, Simon had particularly hated driving. He’d often ranted at cars that had clearly been delivered without indicators. Taxis and buses also aggravated him, but the people he hated the most were, far and away, the stupid, suicidal pedestrians who regularly tried new and imaginative ways to throw themselves under his car.

  He was relatively sure he’d only avoided jail by staying home.

  As he sat in the back of Daniel and Lily’s car - a huge, sleek black thing with leather seats and a stereo system that looked capable of everything short of performing oral sex on the driver (and there was a suspicious looking attachment that he hadn’t worked out yet) - Simon looked out the tinted windows at the world passing by. He was acutely aware that he was on the outside of a giant curved ball. At any instant, he was convinced, gravity would cease to function and the car would lift right off the road and fall away up into space, beneath them. Thinking about it for too long made Simon feel gassy.

  He decided to take his mind off it by concentrating on the matter at hand.

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

  “To the airport,” Lily answered, chirpily.

  Simon wondered if there was a level of Hell where people were tortured by overly literal demons. (“Yes I can stop it now, but surely what you want to know is am I going to stop it now?”) But then he remembered that Hell wasn’t actually his notion of Hell at all, which made him wonder what happened to bad people.

  Surely it wasn’t a case of all men going to Heaven and all women going to Hell? Then again, since Simon’s idea of Heaven, prior to meeting Lily, would have been going somewhere entirely alone but for his TV and a bottomless jar of olives, it occurred to him that maybe there wasn’t an ideal afterlife for everyone.

  “I meant where are we going on the plane?”

  “Oh, we can’t tell you that,” she answered, equally brightly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not allowed to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Where we’re going.”

  “But surely I’ll know when we get there.”

  The conversation was making his head hurt.

  “Actually, no, you won’t,” she countered.

  “How?” Simon asked, growing a little frustrated that his seemingly obvious line of questioning appeared to be moving forward at a rate akin to that of a heavily drugged snail. “How is it possible for me to get on a plane, fly somewhere, get off at an airport and not know where I am?”

  “Because we don’t want you to,” replied Lily.

  … The novelty was wearing off.

  ----

  Some distance away, a man stared into a pool of water, tracing the ripples. The candlelight that brightened the room flickered on the tiny waves, and sparkled in his eyes. A chair brushed idly against his leg.

  They should arrive this evening.

  It was a stroke of luck that the Rug had been taken. It gave him an opportunity. There was only one thing he was going to ask for and, under the circumstances, they certainly couldn’t call it unreasonable. And if they couldn’t get it, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  Faunt pulled the plug out of the sink, dried his hands on a dishtowel and made himself a hot chocolate.

  ----

  As they entered Edinburgh airport, Simon looked up at the departure screens, determined to memorise every flight. It helped take his mind off the fact that he was suddenly surrounded by a heaving mass of sweaty, sickly-perfumed, farty humanity. He felt dizzy at the sudden olfactory offensive.

  14:30: Malaga; 14:35: Barcelona; 14:50: New York; 15:00: Amsterdam.

  Simon memorised all the flights he could. As they queued for the check in, he looked forward to see which desk they were lined up in front of. Oddly, unlike all the other desks, he couldn’t make out the destination name on the board. It was either slightly blurry, slightly obscured or misspelled – or all three.

  Simon tried in vain to force his eyes to focus on the illegible name. He realised he was really quite irritated with his companions, and currently felt that, even if they did smell of occasional ice cream, they were showing the utmost in bad manners by dragging him out of his house and refusing to tell him where he was going. As such, he decided not to acknowledge their presence for a while. He was secretly irked by the knowledge that even if they noticed, they probably wouldn’t care.

  ----

  Outside, a taxi was arriving at the airport with two very tired passengers, one large and very hastily packed bag and a taxi driver who had spent much of the trip wondering if his passengers had accidentally been let out on their own.

  “How will we know where they’re going?” asked Gabby.

  “We know where they’re going!” answered Luke.

  “Yes but, are you really sure? I mean, what if we’re on the wrong flight?”

  “If we’re on the wrong flight, then we’re going where we know they’re going to end up at some point. Because they’re flying away from the Rug, which means they don’t know where it is. So, unless they know something we don’t know, they have to go to Faunt. What we have to do is find out what Faunt’s price is, then stop them paying it.”

  “Why don’t we just ask him not to give it to them?” Gabby asked.

  “He’d have to have a good reason for that or else he’d be considered to be interfering,” Luke answered.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess he wouldn’t want that,” she conceded.

  There was silence for a moment as both realised the taxi was not moving. The driver had been watching the couple in the mirror, while holding the steering wheel straight. Which would have been fine, but for the roundabout they were now parked on top of.

  “We’ll walk from here,” said Luke, handing over a £20 note. “Keep the change.”

  The two climbed out and, ignoring the stares from the surrounding drivers, walked the rest of the way into the airport, firstly by navigating the roundabout somewhat better than the taxi had.

  Gabby changed the subject. “It’s been too long since we ma
de love.”

  Luke stopped mid-stride.

  “What?”

  “Well, it has. I mean, that’s one of the biggest benefits of being alive, and yet here we are going, what is it now, five days?”

  “We’ve been busy…”

  “Well, yeah, but if we fail... Shouldn’t we be doing it as much as we can, now?”

  Faced with such a stunningly rational argument, Luke had little choice but to concede that yes, just in case the world was going to end, they should have as much sex as possible.

  “Next chance we get,” he smiled. “Promise.”

  Gabby broke into a grin and skipped towards the terminal. Luke stalked after her, thanking the universe again for this fabulous, kooky woman.

  ----

  Simon woke up in an unfamiliar place. His first realisation was that his mouth was terribly dry. His second was that he had drool on his cheek. The third, that he was lying on someone’s lap.

  Knowing that the moment he sat up, a little wet pool of drool would be visible on Lily’s skirt, he decided to stay where he was for a little while. Besides, it wasn’t a bad place to be, all things considered.

  From where he was, Simon could make out very little. He was in the back of another car with dark leather seats. The engine was barely audible and the ride was impossibly smooth.

  Something was odd, though, and he took a moment to work it out, since his perception was somewhat skewed. Daniel and Lily were talking, but as hard as he focused, Simon couldn’t understand them. It was gobbledygook. He sat upright with a jolt, embarrassing puddles be damned.

  “Hoi!” Simon spat out. “What are we doing?”

  “Well,” Daniel replied calmly, “I am driving the car, Lily was, until a moment ago, serving as your pillow, and you were sleeping.”

  Only as he sat up had Simon realised Daniel was on the wrong side of the car. Or rather, not the right side of the car.

  “Where are we?” Simon demanded, determined to plough ahead with his irritation before the realisation of who he was castigating sank in or the embarrassment about the drool caught up.

  “Mr Debovar, I can certainly keep telling you that you’re not allowed to know where we’re going or, for that matter, where we are, but I’m fairly certain both of us will get tired of hearing it fairly soon.”

  With the dawning realisation that he had gone through an entire plane journey to somewhere, then been transported from the plane to this car without being able to remember any of it, Simon felt a sudden flip of nausea grab his stomach, shake it up and down a bit and poke him in the eye.

  Then he realised he’d missed first class.

  He rolled down the window and leaned out for some fresh air.

  It was a less good idea than it had seemed, as he looked straight down a sheer cliff face to azure water below.

  Simon couldn’t recall exactly what came out of his mouth next, but the extremely sudden halting of the car and the look on Lily’s face made him fairly certain it must have been something like: “Agggggggghhhhhhh!”

  Daniel slowly and deliberately stopped the car, removed the keys, turned around and, leaning his arms on the backs of the seats, said quietly: “Please don’t do that.”

  “But, but…” Simon stuttered pathetically. Unable to form much in the way of actual language at this point, he pointed out the window and said, “Cliff!”

  “Yes, honey, it’s a cliff. You often find them on the sides of mountains.” Lily smiled at him like a baby who had excitedly discovered his own head.

  The calmness of the pair finally cracked Simon. Considering he hadn’t had anyone to shout at for a very long time, there was thirteen years of bubbling irritation about the shortcomings of the human race looking for a way out.

  “Is that supposed to be funny? You show up at my home, threaten me with the wrath of two gods, drag me to who knows where, knock me out on the way, and then when I am disturbed by the discovery that I’m halfway up a mountain with a sheer drop below, you patronise me?”

  Everything was, momentarily, perfectly still.

  Simon felt a warm ocean breeze drift in the car window to kiss the back of his neck. In the middle distance, seagulls were circling, arguing about who saw which fish first. Far below, the ocean waves lapped lazily against the cliffs, bobbing back and forth to an unheard bass rhythm.

  It was beautiful. And calm.

  “Feel better?” Lily asked, stroking his hair.

  “Yes, I think so,” said Simon, breathing more slowly.

  “Marvellous,” said Daniel, turning around to start the engine. “Let’s carry on, then.”

  “Any chance of a drink of water?” Simon asked. “I’ve got a really dry mouth.”

  ----

  About five hundred yards back down the road, pulled into a small passing place where they had quickly concealed themselves when the car ahead come to a screeching halt, Gabby and Luke were doing a loose impression of slightly confused tourists.

  “What if they see us?” Gabby asked.

  “They won’t. They won’t even look behind them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re absolutely certain that nobody in the world could or would have any reason to be following them, and even if they did, they could hardly have anything to worry about, considering who they are. So, really, they wouldn’t care if there was someone following them.”

  “OK. So, basically, they’re not worried about it because, to be honest, what could anyone who caught up with them do anyway?”

  “Correct.”

  “Luke?”

  “Uh huh?”

  “What are we going to do if we catch up with them?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  After a long, winding drive that was both breathtaking and nauseating for Simon, Daniel pulled the car up to a massive, wrought iron, decorative gate in a beautiful stone archway that had been completely hidden from view until they were right on top of it.

  Many people had driven past it and thought they glimpsed something unusual in their rear view mirrors, but the close proximity of a two thousand foot drop to a watery death tends to focus the driver’s mind on what’s happening in front of them rather than strange gates that appear carved into the side of the mountain behind them.

  The gates slowly swung open. Only then did Simon notice that there was an extremely tall, thin man, dressed in clothes the sandy-reddish colour of the mountainside, pulling them open.

  “He’s expecting you,” the giant said as the car passed through.

  “Of course,” said Daniel, out his open window.

  The car proceeded slowly up a carved stone tunnel, lit on both sides by torches that somehow left no scorch marks on the stone above them and didn’t fill the tunnel with smoke. It was warm and inviting.

  As the car bumped its way along the path, Lily offered Simon another drink of water. He took it gratefully. The dusty roads had kept his throat dry and it was, whether of its own quality or his thirst, the best water he’d ever tasted.

  The car turned a final bend and the tunnel opened up into what was, effectively, a large front drive, carved completely inside the mountain. It was a half dome, the flat side of which faced them with what, under other circumstances, would have looked like a quaint little country cottage. It had a rounded wooden door with wrought iron studs, a wooden-framed window and a proliferation of plants and flowers in baskets, including a healthy ivy growing up the front. However, despite having been designed to look like it was made of stone bricks, the front was carved from solid rock.

  They were looking at a cottage … in the heart of a mountain.

  “I have a question,” said Simon.

  “Is it ‘Where are we?’” asked Daniel.

  “No.” He had genuinely given up hope of that being answered.

  “Shoot,” said Lily.

  “How do plants grow in here, where there’s no sunlight? And how did those torches not give off smoke? And how is it so warm inside a mountain?” Simon paused. “
Sorry, that’s actually three questions, isn’t it?”

  “But only one answer,” replied Daniel. “Because to those who have power and wealth, only information has value.”

  Oh, good. Another cryptic answer.

  Daniel strode purposefully up to the door, but, instead of knocking, simply turned and said to Lily, “Come on.”

  Lily rolled her eyes and hurried Simon along to the door, where the three of them stood resolutely not knocking. Simon noticed there was, in fact, no knocker, which seemed an odd omission amongst the other iron door furniture.

  “Come on…” said Daniel again, but this time, seemingly, to nobody.

  “Who are you talking to?” asked Simon.

  “He’s waiting for Faunt to let us in,” Lily explained.

  “Wouldn’t it help if he knew we were here?” Simon asked.

  “He does, Mr Debovar. That’s rather the point. He knows we’re here and he knows what we want. The only question is what he might want from you.”

  “Me? I don’t have anything valuable.”

  “Well, until yesterday, you had the Holy Rug of Djoser,” Daniel said, in his condescending tone, “So it’s safe to say that perhaps you don’t know the exact value of everything you have.”

  It was a fair point. He’d sold quite a lot of the stuff he inherited, but there was still a lock up full of things he didn’t know what to do with. Simon decided to shut up until something happened.

  The door opened. A dishevelled, bohemian man wearing oversized pinstripe trousers drawn tight with a belt stood in the doorway. His white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and the front hung open revealing a wiry, downy body. His feet were bare, and he had a shock of unkempt, overlong hair that stood out at impossible angles. His stylish, round rimmed glasses looked like they might dive off at any second, but somehow still clung to his lean face. Faunt was odd-looking, but didn’t strike Simon as the mythical creature he’d been led to expect.