‘True,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Tiger. The situation is worse than it’s ever been, but it’s not hopeless. There are thirty-two hours until the Trolls cross the Button Trench, and we need to use that time productively. We need to find the true Princess, figure out a foolproof way of unmasking the impostor, de-king Sir Matt, get the Princess back on the throne, then defeat the Mighty Shandar and the Trolls. So, any ideas?’
‘Is “de-king” a word?’ asked the Troll.
‘It is now.’
‘We need to find when and where they were switched,’ said Tiger, ‘and see if that affords us any clues as to where she is now.’
I thought for a moment.
‘We need … a group of people who will be so worried about making a mistake and ruining everything that they
‘Oh, blast,’ said General Worrier, ‘that’s me and my team, isn’t it? Well, okay, we’ll give it our very best but don’t yell at us all if we fail – we’ll be too busy, anyway, sitting in a dark room and staring at the wall gently weeping to ourselves, crushed inside.’
‘That’s the spirit, General. Better get on to it. Find out where the Princess is for us.’
He sighed and gathered up his notebooks. With an army of terrible worriers desperate not to ruin everything, they were, oddly enough, highly motivated to do everything correctly. General Worrier opened the door to leave and Molly gave out a sharp cry. She held her head, the pain manifesting itself in a muscle spasm that resulted in a narrow cleft that ran vertically down her forehead.
‘Close the door!’ she yelled, and Tiger complied; the pain abruptly ceased.
‘The doors must be open all the way to the street,’ she said. ‘I like my spaces small but also unbounded. You wouldn’t like me if I came over all expansive.’
She then looked sheepish, mumbled an apology and the conversation switched again to what I’d seen at Shandar’s Tower of Knowledge.
‘Eternal life is probably the biggest bribe given to anyone, ever,’ remarked Boo.
‘It’s not likely he’ll deliver,’ I said. ‘He’ll offer anything to get what he wants to fulfil his plans – whatever they are.’
‘Speaking of which,’ said Boo, ‘Princess Jocaminca found a fantasy author before she became a fake queen’s lady-in-waiting. He might be able to come up with something that’s bigger and bolder than anything we can dream up.’
‘What have we to lose?’ I said in a desultory tone. ‘Better bring him in.’
Tiger went out and came back a few minutes later with a middle-aged man dressed in chinos and a shirt. He looked around the room at everyone in turn, seeming astonished to be there.
‘Goodness,’ he said finally, ‘is that a Troll?’
‘Thank you,’ said Molly in a huffy tone, ‘for that piece of stereotyping. I would have preferred: “Oh, look there’s a brave member of the resistance”.’
‘But you
‘Yes, that’s true, but I’m more than
‘So,’ said Boo to the author, ‘what sort of stuff do you write? Science fiction?’
‘More science
‘I’m not sure I see the distinction,’ said Boo, ‘but then I’m not a big reader.’
‘Me neither,’ I said, ‘but look, we need a fantasist to come up with a scenario that would fit the facts we know, but it’s got to be bigger and bolder than we could dream up.’
‘I’m not sure that makes much sense,’ said the author, still confused, ‘but I’ll give it a whirl.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Boo, ‘we need to make sure you’re up to the task. Tell us a weird idea you’ve come up with that’s
‘Well,’ said the author, ‘I made George Formby president-for-life of Great Britain.’
‘Who’s George Formby?’ asked Tiger.
‘What’s Great Britain?’ asked Boo.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘here’s another: a book about Humpty Dumpty as a police procedural.’
‘I think that’s been done,’ said the Troll. ‘Everyone’s always retelling nursery rhymes. I mean, it’s not a massive stretch, is it?’
‘How about a social order based wholly on the strength of your colour vision?’
‘Better,’ I said. ‘is there a sequel?’
‘Don’t you start. I also wrote a thriller set in a world in which humans have always hibernated.’
‘I like that idea,’ said Tiger. ‘What are you working on at the moment?’
‘The last book in a series for children.’
‘How does it turn out?’
He looked down.
‘I’ve only written fifty-nine percent, so I’m not quite sure – but I think it all works out okay.’
‘What were you looking at just now,’ asked Tiger suspiciously, ‘when you looked down?’
‘Nothing.’
Everyone fell silent as we all contemplated the author, who started to fiddle with the keys in his pocket, and looked at the four walls nervously, as though they might be appearing to move or something. But since we had nothing to lose we asked him to sit down and then explained everything we knew about the Mighty Shandar, and when we had finished he looked at us long and hard.
