The Wings of Ruksh Read online

  “The men aren’t too happy, either,” Tatler said shrewdly. “Which is the one you recognized?”

  “The chap on the right. His name’s Sir James Erskine. Totally respectable chap. Has a distillery down by Holyrood Park that makes that fabulous whisky called ‘The MacArthur.’ You must have tasted it.”

  Tatler raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I have, indeed,” he said feelingly.

  “He’s an MSP as well, you know. Got elected to the Scottish Parliament last year.”

  The two men looked at one another speculatively. “He doesn’t really seem the type to be mixed up in any funny business, does he,” Tatler said. “Still, you never know. Who’s the other man?”

  “The Park Ranger on Arthur’s Seat, a chap called John MacLean. He lives in one of the Park cottages near the distillery so it’s perfectly reasonable to assume they know one another. Equally respectable, too, I might add. The children are his, by the way.”

  “To my mind, it’s the children that are the stumbling block,” Tatler mused. “Who in their right minds would put their children at risk with dragons around?”

  “So you think it could all be perfectly innocent?”

  “It could be if it weren’t for Duncan Campbell’s story.” Tatler pursed his lips. “And there was a dragon, remember. A planeload of people saw it.”

  “Including one of my special constables!” nodded Archie Thompson. He paused, eying Tatler thoughtfully. “I’ll get my secretary to make an appointment for us to see Sir James, then, shall I?”

  “Yes,” agreed Tatler. “Whatever’s on the film, I think we have to talk to him anyway.”

  As the Chief Constable pressed a buzzer to call his secretary, Tatler got to his feet and strolled to a window that overlooked what was now a veritable tartan city. As far as he was concerned, the dragon was now almost of minor importance. More serious by far was the tartan nightmare that seemed to have Scotland in its grip. His secretary hadn’t told him the half of it. It was much, much worse than he’d thought. And how on earth, wondered Tatler, could the Chief Constable of Edinburgh, an astute and intelligent man, not realize the freakishness that was being perpetrated under his very nose?

  But who or what lay behind this sudden passion for all things Scottish? And it was a passion, of that he had no doubt. A very strong passion. The passengers on the train had convinced him of it. They positively revelled in their tartan clothes, ate haggis with gusto and tapped their feet enthusiastically to the swirl of the bagpipes. It wasn’t put on. They were genuine, through and through.

  He pursed his lips and frowned; for what really worried him was the fact that he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why!

  9. Turkish Delight

  “Thank goodness Arthur remembers the way,” muttered Hamish, holding a torch aloft as he led a small group of MacArthurs along a narrow, dusty passage, deep under Arthur’s Seat. “I haven’t been down here in ages.”

  “Me neither,” answered Jaikie, panting slightly. “For goodness sake, give Archie a shout and get him to slow Arthur down a bit. He’s galloping along at a rate of knots! I can’t keep up and that carrier-thing we’ve rigged up for the mirrors, is going to start banging off the side of the tunnel if he goes any faster.”

  Archie, perched on Arthur’s back, ducked his head as the light of his torch gleamed on the uneven roof of the tunnel. Hearing Hamish’s shout, he twisted round and glanced in concern at the ropes that harnessed a flat, trolley-like affair to Arthur’s massive bulk. “Slow down, Arthur,” he said worriedly. “You’re going too fast! We don’t want the ropes to get tangled.”

  Although Arthur obediently slowed down, the worst was over as the tunnel widened suddenly to reveal a huge, roundish hall. Set into its rocky walls were a series of large, arched doors.

  “I remember this cave,” Archie said excitedly, slipping off Arthur’s back and sticking his blazing torch in one of the wall sconces. The MacArthurs crowded in round the dragon who led them to a door on the far side of the cavern.

  Two burly MacArthurs pulled the door open and there was an awed silence as they walked in and looked at the shrouded bulk of the magic mirrors stacked against the walls of the store room.

  “Take the covers off and let’s see them,” instructed Hamish, pulling a length of dusty cloth from one of the mirrors. As the strips of sheeting slid to the ground, the magic mirrors were revealed in all their glory, endlessly reflecting both them and the flames of their burning torches. The mirrors were huge — at least seven feet tall, Jaikie reckoned, gazing up at them in wonder. Their glass had a strange, sparkling sheen to it but the dull, iron frames, decorated with carvings of flowers, birds and animals, were oppressive as well as imposing.

  Archie shivered slightly and looked at Jaikie and the others. Although they all knew that the mirrors were locked, they nevertheless had an aura of their own that proclaimed them powerful objects of magic. If one of them were to ripple, Archie thought, no one knew who or what might step through … or from where …

  Hamish, obviously thinking along the same lines, gestured to the piles of sheeting. “Cover them up again,” he instructed shivering slightly, “and let’s get them loaded onto Arthur’s trolley. And don’t, whatever you do, touch any of the carvings or you might switch one on by accident!”

  It took at least six MacArthurs to load each one and they were all panting as the last mirror, looped with ropes, was hauled up to the top of the pile.

  “Can you pull all this weight, Arthur?” Archie asked anxiously. “They must weigh a ton!”

  Arthur looked down his nose at Archie and blew a puff of smoke. “Do me favour, Archie,” he said dryly, “I am a dragon, remember!”

  The pace of the return journey was, nevertheless, a lot slower and, as they followed the trolley, Archie’s heart sank as his mind raced over the problems that faced him; for magic mirrors were notoriously tricky things. Each mirror was actually only half a mirror and could only be considered whole when the settings of any two halves matched up. That the other half of the mirror could be on the other side of the world made no difference — if the settings were correct in a few seconds you could quite easily step between towns, cities and countries worldwide. Nevertheless, they had their risks; for if the setting of one half was wrong then you could, as Hamish had said, end up in Outer Mongolia or Darkest Africa, for that matter. And the destructive wave of energy caused by two mirrors locking against one another could cause complete devastation … Archie shivered at the thought.

  “Do you think you’ll manage to set them all properly, then?” queried Jaikie, looking at him doubtfully.

  “I hope so,” muttered Archie.

  The Great Hall was a scene of total confusion when they arrived. MacArthurs milled everywhere and had obviously been busy in their absence, for long tables now stretched the length of the hall; gold dishes were being unpacked and polished; delicious smells drifted up from the kitchens and Lady Ellan, looking a trifle frayed as she organized the preparations for the great banquet, waved to them in relief as she saw them start to unload the mirrors.

  By the end of the day, the hall was ready. The MacArthur, dressed in robes of fur and velvet, looked round and nodded in approval. Hung with banners and blazing with light from hundreds of torches, the hall was magnificent and certainly befitted the status of their royal visitor. He strode towards the gilded chairs that had been set up in honour of their guest. Arthur, whose scales glowed crimson in the torchlight, moved forward and curled proudly at his side with Archie standing beside him.

  The MacArthur then lifted his arms and in a commanding voice, chanted the words of a powerful spell.

  Silence fell. By this time, the MacArthurs had all heard that Prince Kalman was in Edinburgh and knew that this could be a dangerous few minutes; for by dropping the protective shield, they were allowing him access to the hill.

  Time passed — second by nervous second.

  “Are all the mirrors set?” questioned the MacArthur as his
crystal ball was placed in front of him.

  Archie gulped, nodded and crossed his fingers behind his back as the MacArthur passed his hand over the shining crystal. As it glowed to life, he spoke briefly to Lord Rothlan. “The shield’s been lifted, Alasdair. The Sultan can step through now.”

  Almost immediately, one of the mirrors rippled and a gasp of wonder echoed round the hall as Sulaiman the Red, Sultan of Turkey, stepped through into the great hall, slowly surveying its grandeur before turning to the MacArthur, who, with Arthur accompanying him, stepped forward, bowing low. Lady Ellan curtsied, overawed by the jewelled magnificence of the Sultan’s golden clothes. Draped in ropes of pearls, sparkling with diamonds and glowing with rubies and emeralds, he was totally breathtaking. Lifting her eyes to his handsome, bearded face, however, she saw beyond the outward show of his regalia and breathed a silent sigh of relief; for the Sultan’s glance, although proud, was both shrewd and intelligent.

  By this time, all the mirrors were rippling as, curved scimitars swinging at their sides, the colourful, gaudily-clad figures of the Sultan’s Guard jostled and tumbled their way into the hall after their master.

  But where was Lord Rothlan, Ellan wondered, her eyes searching the row of mirrors. She saw Sir James step into the hall with an expression of bewilderment on his face that made her smile. Neil and Clara followed with their father behind them, and then Lord Rothlan appeared holding Mrs MacLean by the hand as she stepped through the frame of the mirror into the hall.

  Ellan moved forward swiftly and caught her by the hand. “Mrs MacLean,” she said warmly, “how lovely to see you, but …” She looked questioningly at Lord Rothlan, knowing that Mrs MacLean didn’t have a firestone.

  “Janet got caught up with the Turks in the restaurant,” he explained. “She travelled through the mirrors with me.”

  “We really should have given you a firestone ages ago,” Lady Ellan said, apologetically. “We’ll all be busy tonight with the Sultan’s banquet but I promise you, it’s the first thing we’ll do tomorrow morning!”

  The arrival of the Sultan of Turkey and his court was a glittering event that set the magic carpets in the hill rippling with delight for they had all been made in Turkey in days long past and the power of the Sultan and his crown was woven into their very fabric. His presence renewed their strength and Neil and Clara, thankful to be back in familiar surroundings, could feel the hill sparking with magic as the Sultan walked through its halls.

  The feast that evening was an occasion that few would forget. Torches burned brightly in the sconces on the walls, their flickering flames reflected in the glowing gold dishes and bowls that decorated tables now laden with food.

  During the course of the evening, Sir James met the MacArthur’s eyes and they exchanged smiles of relief at its obvious success. It was, thought Sir James, a scene of almost mediaeval splendour and one that he would always remember.

  10. Carpet Capers

  It wasn’t until after breakfast the following morning, however, that the MacArthur, Lord Rothlan and the Sultan got down to the serious business of the visit. Gathered round an old mahogany table in a panelled room, they started their discussions while everyone else waited, albeit somewhat anxiously, in the Great Hall, wondering what was being said and what plans were being laid.

  With a flap of his wings, Amgarad perched happily on Clara’s shoulder as she followed Lady Ellan, Neil and her mother to Arthur’s cave where the dragon lay lazily on his glittering mound of fabulous treasure. He hissed a gentle welcome to Mrs MacLean as she and Clara scrambled up beside him. Clara urged her mother to rest against one of the dragon’s arms while she sat uncomfortably on the treasure itself. Amgarad hopped onto the open lid of a huge box, spilling with golden sovereigns.

  “Now we’ll choose a firestone for you, Janet,” Lady Ellan said, looking round thoughtfully. She rummaged among the treasure and picked out a particularly beautiful firestone from amongst the glowing scatter of emeralds, diamonds and rubies. “I should have given you one earlier but, quite frankly, none of us thought you’d ever need it.”

  “Thank you, thank you very much!” Mrs MacLean said, holding it up delightedly so that the torchlight made it gleam. “I’ll get John to put it on a chain for me like he did with the others. Otherwise, I might lose it.” She looked at it wonderingly and again smiled her thanks before placing it carefully in a zippered compartment in her handbag. “Will I …” she asked shyly, “will I be able to call a magic carpet with it, like the others do?”

  “Yes, of course,” came the immediate reply. “When we go back to the Great Hall, I’ll choose one specially for you.”

  “That’ll be fab!” said Clara. “Then I can see my carpet at the same time.”

  Arthur scrambled off his pile of treasure to accompany them and by the time they reached the Great Hall, they found several MacArthurs already starting to set the tables for lunch, carrying wicker baskets full of cutlery, plates and glasses. Near the dais, where the MacArthur usually sat, Sir James and the Ranger lounged on cushions, chatting idly to Archie, Hamish and Jaikie.

  “What I don’t understand,” Sir James was saying to Archie as they approached, “was how MacGregor managed to find the Turkish restaurant at all, far less have dinner there.”

  “I’d say,” Jaikie chipped in, “that the Turks were fishing. We put a strong protective shield round Arthur’s Seat the moment we found they were in town you see, and when they found they couldn’t get near us, I think they tried to catch whoever they could.”

  Archie nodded. “You’re probably right,” he agreed. “Although he doesn’t realize it, MacGregor still has a lot of magic in him. If he hadn’t, he’d never have been able to see the sign in the first place, far less get into the restaurant.”

  “But he couldn’t find it afterwards, when he went looking for it,” objected the Ranger.

  “They probably just made it invisible to him,” Archie shrugged. “By then, they’d have realized that he was of no use to them. They couldn’t have known, though, that he’d tell you about the restaurant.” He nodded sagely. “They struck lucky there, actually, for you proved a different kettle of fish entirely. You, after all, were wearing firestones! Aye, their gamble paid off in the end,” he said smiling wryly.

  “We were lucky, too,” muttered Sir James, his eyes turning to the tunnel that led to the room where the talks were being held. “If Rothlan hadn’t been watching the Turks through his crystal — well, at this moment in time we would probably still be stuck in Turkey with the Sultan.”

  Lady Ellan’s eyes followed his glance as she approached the dais. “Are they still talking?” she queried. “I was hoping some news might have leaked out.”

  Jaikie shook his head. “Not a thing so far,” he answered, “but by my reckoning, they ought to be out pretty soon.”

  “How on earth do you work that out?” asked Ellan.

  Jaikie grinned. “Your father must be onto his third pipe by now and after the fourth, I doubt if there’ll be any air left to breathe in there!”

  “Let’s hope they won’t be much longer, then,” she said, smiling appreciatively, for her father’s addiction to a foul-smelling pipe had long been a source of argument between them. “Actually, we’re just going to the back of the hall to choose a carpet for Mrs MacLean. Call me when there’s any news, won’t you!”

  Neil and Clara clapped their hands twice when they reached the side of the cave where hundreds of magic carpets were stacked in neat rolls against the wall. Immediately, two carpets unrolled themselves swiftly and sailed gracefully towards them. Clara patted hers gently and felt the carpet ripple with pleasure. Lady Ellan, too, stroked it fondly. Patterned in an intricate design of red and blue, it had been her carpet as a child and she had chosen it specially for Clara when she had first come into the hill. Now she looked for another and, in the end, selected one with a pattern of birds and flowers for Mrs MacLean.

  “There, Janet,” she said kindly, “this will be you
r carpet from now on. Remember, though, you have to be wearing your firestone to call it.

  “Can I call it now?”

  “Yes, of course,” Ellan smiled. “Clap your hands together twice, say ‘carpet’ and it will come to you.”

  Mrs MacLean clapped her hands briskly, said “carpet” and watched excitedly as her carpet rose to hover in front of her.

  “Why don’t you fly round the hall for a while,” suggested Lady Ellan. “Until the meeting finishes, we’ve really nothing else to do.”

  “Good idea,” Neil said delightedly, grinning at Clara as his mother climbed onto her carpet and set off round the vast hall. “It’s been ages since we last flew on the carpets! I’d forgotten how totally fab it is. Mind out, Arthur! Here I come!”

  Clara nodded in agreement as she scrambled onto hers and prepared to follow her mother round the hall. “I wish we could have another adventure like the last one,” she called to Neil. “Life at the moment seems … I don’t know … just plain dull!”

  Neil grinned at her and felt the same old feeling of excitement thrill through him as his carpet zoomed through the air. Clara was right. Life had been dull of late; nothing but school, school and more school. Now he sat, tense and alert, on the magic carpet and as he whizzed madly round Arthur, he somehow knew that another adventure was on the way.

  11. Shocking News

  Had Neil been listening to Hamish and Archie’s conversation, he would have been even more convinced that another adventure was in the offing, for Archie was telling Sir James and the Ranger of the strange meeting between Prince Kalman and the Frenchman.

  “I think your French count must be Louis de Charillon,” Sir James said, thoughtfully. “I’ve met him once or twice, as it happens. In fact, I’ll be seeing him in a few days time. The Scottish Parliament is hosting a grouse shoot for diplomats at the weekend and I noticed his name on the list. De Charillon is the French Consul.”