The Wondermark Gazette

Soon, we were in the Room. I was announced as “His Excellency, the Crown’s Regent,” and judging from the number of chairs I heard shuffling and boots I heard scraping, ten or twelve people must have stood as I entered.

“Your Excellency, may I introduce the command-staff of Prison-Isle,” said the man whom I’d met in the hall-way, presumably indicating a roomful of figures I couldn’t see. “First, our Minister of Operations, Nedward Duke Paddington-Boîtes.”

“An honour, sir.” Nedward sounded ponce. I nodded in the direction of the voice.

“To his right, our Secretary-General of Prison Up-keep, Sir Manfred of Glottis.”

“Delighted of course, your Excellency.” Sounded like Manfred went so far as to click his heels. Nancy.

“To his right, Head Armourer and Spear-Master, Captain Berkblossom.” And it went on like so, through Earl Duckingsham and Old Man Waddle-Bough III and the garlic-smelling Lord Biscuit-Tin or something, all around the room until I was thoroughly and completely introduced to a dozen strangers whose names I started out forgetting at once and graduated to never even hearing them the first time. “Charmed, charmed, you all have done a capital job here, capital,” I kept nodding, steepling my fingers in imitation contemplation.

“Now then,” said somebody, possibly Biscuit-Tin or maybe the one before him (honestly, this was ridiculous), “we’ve deduced that the explosion aboard, and subsequent sinking of, the prison-ferry was the act of a prisoner attempting escape. We don’t know how many were in the hold, but reports indicated that the holdouts from the siege were among the hardiest and most blood-thirsty of any combatants our men have faced on the battle-field. They may have been planning this assault for some time.”

“But,” interrupted another mystery voice, “we mustn’t over-look the chance that the attack was related to the ‘high-value prisoner’ Major-Leftenant Tapiorca had the ferry pick up from Easthillshireborough-upon-Flats Harbour. We don’t know who that was, but we’ll find out all those details as soon as our telegraph-link has been re-established. The cable seems to have been cut somewhere in the channel.” Excellent. “In the mean-time, we have dispatched a messenger to rendez-vous with the Major.” Crap.

“Call the messenger back at once,” I barked. “I know the culprit — the same that sank my un-announced ship at the same time, causing me to be mixed up with the prisoners from the ferry.” Pretty sure I heard nodding. “It was a dastardly terrorist named Chin-Strap O’Flagnahan, and I bested him in hand-to-hand combat when I caught him trying to escape the ferry. He was good” — here I spread my arms to indicate my multitudinous injuries — “but I was better.” A polite smattering of applause. This was going fairly well. “So, that wraps up that. Case closed on the ferry.”

I swear I heard someone furrow a brow. “That doesn’t quite match our intelligence,” came a puzzled reply. “We’ve interrogated the surviving prisoners thoroughly. There’s definitely a missing element — some operative who was able to smuggle explosives onto the ship. We believe there might be a conspirator among our staff.”

I felt Ursula’s grip tense on the invalid-chair, and I knew I had my chance. She had manipulated me long enough — it was time I took charge of this situation. Finally, I would be free from her twisting, sticky spider-web. “I’ll tell you who it is,” I said. “This woman behind me is not a nurse! She’s a spy for enemies of the Crown!”

The room gasped, and feet shuffled angrily. I could hear people approach — but Ursula wasn’t going without a fight. “This is nonsense!” she said. “He’s delusional!”

“Is that true?” someone asked me. “Are you delusional?”

A knock sounded at the door. “Oh, bother — probably someone wanting the room,” said the man I’d met in the hall-way. “But we’ve got it reserved ’til noon.” He moved to the door and opened it. “Sorry, we’re –”

It was at this moment that I was thankful for my blindness, for it imbued me with super-sensitive hearing, without which I certainly would not have over-heard the whispered words uttered by the lad who’d just knocked at the meeting-room door.

“It’s the ferry-guard,” he said. “Viktor. He says he’s got an urgent message. About the Crown’s Regent.”

“Ah, Viktor! How is my old school-chum?” I found my chair’s wheels with my fingers and swivelled towards the door-way. “A vile prankster, he is. Last time I saw him, he was laughing about having a dozen pizzas delivered to me in the heart of the Saharan sub-continent — payment due! Oh, I swore I’d get that old rascal back, and I won’t tell you what I’ve got planned! Say, what’s he got to tell us? Spit it out, then — I’ll bet it’s a load of laughs!”

The messenger stammered. “He — he said it was for the Security Chief’s ears only, Your Excellency.”

“Spit it out, or face the stocks,” I growled. “I assume there are stocks on this island? Someone see to it that my threat has teeth.” Several chairs pushed back from the table at my command. Good. Those men, at least, were solidly mine.

“He said that — that the man posing as the Crown’s Regent was the terrorist who blew up the ferry and freed the prisoners,” the lad babbled.

I burst out laughing.

“Oh, Viktor!” I laughed, slapping my knee in delight. “Someone see that he gets a night in irons. That’ll teach him to play pranks!”

The room started chuckling, then burbled over into genuine, tension-dissolving laugher. What a prankster, that Viktor! “Yessir,” the messenger replied, skipping back into the hall. The door closed after the boy.

With them still on my side, I seized the moment. “Don’t forget the nurse,” I said. “Traitor to the Crown! Take her away at once.”

She tried to mount a feeble protestation, but it was no use. She hadn’t made them laugh. There was a rustle, the sound of sabers slipping from their sheaths, movement — and then Ursula was gone, and that was that.

It had worked. I heaved a breath of liberty.

“Excellent work, Your Excellency,” someone said.

“It’s right there in the name,” I said, and chanced a smirk. I don’t know if it read through the bandages swaddling my entire head. “What other problems of yours can I solve for you?”

A shuffling of papers. “Er,” began someone else, “there is the matter of the scout-ship sighting from the turret watch-men. An air-ship’s been seen circling o’er the waters off the Easthillshireborough-upon-Flats coast — south of Northerly Isle but west of Boogeyman-Isle; east of Westington, but north of Santa-Claus-Isle. It flew no standard. We think perhaps privateers, or scavengers.”

That would be a fore-scout from the Countess’ armada. So they were on their way to obliterate Easthillshireborough-upon-Flats — good thing I was safely here on Prison-Isle. “A French pleasure-skiff, no doubt,” I proclaimed. “Package-tour hog-wash. Naught but pensioners and ill-behaved children. Pay it no mind. Is that all? Very well. Carry on, gentlemen; smashing work you’re doing, expect bonuses all ’round at Christmas.”

“But — that sighting was early this morning –”

“Sunrise sight-seeing; you know the French,” I shrugged. “Let’s be tolerant of their odd proclivities. What’s the trouble?”

“It’s just that now there are fifty of them,” came the reply. “Massing directly over-head.”

I wondered if my heart had stopped, it was so suddenly cold and silent in that place.

But I still held the room with steely command. “Fetch Lara the ferry-driver. Summon a ship to take me to London,” I said, keeping so much beef in my voice you’d think I had swallowed a steer. When no one answered, the horns came out. “So? Have you all gone dumb?”

“It’s just that our ferry-boat’s out of commission, as you know,” came the reply — Waddle-Bough, I thought. It sounded like a Waddle-Bough. “And until the telegraph’s sorted we can’t requisition another. The messenger we sent to Tapiorca’s camp –”

“That messenger cannot be trusted!” I shouted, rising half up from my seat before the phenomenon of totally non-functioning feet plastered me back into my invalid-chair. “Is there no escape from this blasted place?”

A moment of silence. “Well,” said Waddle-Bough, “it is a prison.”

Next: The Scout

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