فصل سوم

CHAPTER 3: ECHOES OF

MAGIC

ARTEMIS Senior assembled his troops in Fowl Manor’s conference room, which had originally been a banqueting hall. Until recently the soaring Gothic arches were hidden by a false ceiling, but Angeline Fowl had ordered the ceiling to be removed and the hall restored to its original double-height glory.

Artemis, his father and Butler sat in black leather Marcel Breuer chairs round a glass-topped table with space for ten more people.

Not so long ago there were smugglers seated at this table, thought Artemis. Not to mention crime lords, hackers, insider traders, counterfeiters, black marketeers and cat burglars. The old family businesses.

Artemis Senior closed his laptop. He was pale and obviously exhausted, but the old determination shone brightly in his eyes.

‘The plan is a simple one. We must seek out not just a second opinion, but as many opinions as possible. Butler will take the jet and go to China. No time for official channels, so perhaps you could find a strip where immigration is a little lax.’ Butler nodded. ‘I know just the place. I can be there and back in two days, all going well.’ Artemis Senior was satisfied. ‘Good. The jet is fuelled and ready. I have already organized a full crew and an extra pilot.’ ‘I just need to pack a few things, then I can be on my way.’ Artemis could imagine what kinds of things Butler would pack, especially if there were no officials at the airstrip.

‘What will you do, Father?’ he asked.

‘I am going to England,’ said Artemis Senior. ‘I can take the helicopter to London City Airport and from there a limousine to Harley Street. There are several specialists I can talk to, and it will be far more efficient to send me there than bring them all here. If any of them can shed even the most feeble ray of light on your mother’s situation, then I will pay them whatever it takes to get them back here. Buy out their practices if necessary.’ Artemis nodded. Wise tactics. Still, he would expect no less from the man who had successfully run a criminal empire for over two decades, and a humanitarian one for the past few years.

Everything Artemis Senior did now was ethical. From his fair-trade clothes company to his shares in Earthpower, a consortium of like-minded businessmen who were building everything from renewable-fuel cars to geothermal rods and solar panels. He’d even had the Fowl cars, jet and helicopter fitted with advanced emission filters to lighten the family’s carbon footprint.

‘I shall remain here,’ announced Artemis, without waiting to be told. ‘I can coordinate your efforts, set up a web cam so that the Harley Street specialists can see Mother, supervise Doctor Schalke and Miss Book, and also conduct my own Internet search for possible cures.’ Artemis Senior half smiled. ‘Exactly, son. I hadn’t thought of the web cam.’ Butler was anxious to depart, but he had a point to make before going. ‘I am not comfortable about leaving Artemis alone. A genius he may be, but he is still a habitual meddler and a magnet for trouble.’ The bodyguard winked at Artemis. ‘No offence, young sir, but you could turn a Sunday picnic into an international incident.’ Artemis accepted the accusation graciously. ‘None taken.’

‘That thought has occurred to me,’ said Artemis Senior, scratching his chin. ‘But there is nothing for it. The nanny has agreed to take the twins to her cottage in Howth for a couple of days, but Arty is needed here and so he will have to fend for himself.’ ‘Which will not be a problem,’ said Artemis. ‘Have a little faith, please.’ Artemis Senior reached across the table, covering his son’s hand with his own. ‘Faith in each other is all we have now. We have to believe that saving your mother is possible. Do you believe it?’ Artemis noticed one of the upper windows swinging slowly ajar A leaf curled into the room, riding a swirling breeze, then the window seemed to close itself.

‘I absolutely believe it, Father. More with every minute.’

Holly did not reveal her self until Artemis Senior’s modified Sikorsky S-76C had lifted off from the rooftop heliport. Artemis was busy rigging a web cam at the foot of his mother’s bed when the elf shimmered into view with her hand on his shoulder.

‘Artemis, I am so sorry,’ she said softly.

‘Thanks for coming, Holly,’ said Artemis. ‘You got here quickly.’ ‘I was above ground in Finland, chasing a kraken.’

‘Ah yes, Tennyson’s beast,’ said Artemis, closing his eyes, remembering a few lines from the famous poem.

‘Below the thunders of the upper deep;

Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep,

The kraken sleepeth.’

‘Sleepeth? Not any more. Watch the news headlines later. There was a natural gas explosion apparently.’ ‘I would guess that Foaly is up to his old spin-doctoring tricks.’ ‘Yes.’

‘Not many kraken left now,’ commented Artemis. ‘Seven by my reckoning.’ ‘Seven?’ said Holly, surprised. ‘We’re only tracking six.’

‘Ah yes, six. I meant six. New suit?’ he asked, changing the subject a little too quickly.

‘Three years more advanced than the last one,’ replied Holly, filing the kraken titbit for investigation at a later time. ‘It has auto-armour. If the sensors feel something big coming, the entire suit flexes to cushion the blow. It’s saved my life once today already.’ A message icon beeped in Holly’s helmet, and she took a moment to read the short text.

‘Number One is on the way. They’re sending the Section Eight shuttle. No way to contain this now, so whatever we need to do has to be done fast.’ ‘Good. I need all the help I can get.’

Their conversation petered out as Angeline Fowl’s deathly illness completely occupied their thoughts. She radiated pallor and the smell of lilies hung yellow in the air.

Artemis fumbled with the web cam and it rolled under the bed.

‘Hellfire,’ he swore, kneeling to reach an arm into the dark space. ‘I can’t… I just can’t …’ And suddenly the enormity of the situation struck him hard.

‘What kind of son am I?’ he whispered. ‘A liar and a thief. All my mother has ever done was love me and try to protect me and now she may die.’ Holly helped Artemis to his feet. ‘You’re not that person any more, Artemis, and you love your mother, don’t you?’ Artemis huffed, embarrassed. ‘Yes. Of course.’

‘Then you are a good son. And your mother will see that as soon as I cure her.’ Holly clicked her neck and magical sparks leaped from her fingertips, spinning in an inverted cone.

‘No,’ blurted Artemis. ‘Wouldn’t it be wise to check the symptoms first?’ Holly closed her fist, smothering the sparks. Suspicious.

She took off her helmet and stepped close to Artemis, closer than he liked people to be, staring hard into his mismatched eyes. It was strange to see her own eye looking back at her.

‘Have you done something, Artemis?’

Artemis met her gaze steadily. It seemed that there was nothing in his eyes but sadness.

‘No. I am more cautious with my mother than I would be with myself, that is all.’ Holly’s suspicion was born of years of experience with Artemis and so she wondered why he would be reluctant to allow her to use magic now when it had never bothered him before. Perhaps he had already tried this route himself. Perhaps the time stream had not stripped him of his stolen magic, as he had claimed.

She clamped her hands to the side of Artemis’s head, then laid her forehead against his.

‘Stop this, Holly,’ objected Artemis. ‘We have no time.’

Holly did not answer, closing her eyes, concentrating. Artemis felt heat spread across his skull and the familiar buzz of magic. Holly was probing him. It lasted barely a second.

‘Nothing’ she said, releasing him. ‘Echoes of magic. But no power.’ Artemis stumbled backwards, dizzy.

‘I understand your suspicion, Holly. I have earned it repeatedly. Now would you please examine my mother?’ Holly realized that up to this point she had avoided doing anything more than take a cursory glance at Angeline Fowl. This entire situation brought back too many painful memories.

‘Of course, Artemis. I’m sorry about the probe. I had to be sure that I could take all of this on face value.’ ‘My feelings are not important,’ said Artemis, leading Holly by the elbow. ‘Now, my mother. Please.’ Holly had to force herself to examine Angeline Fowl properly, and, the moment she did, a deep-rooted dread sent pins and needles fluttering up and down her limbs.

‘I know this,’ she whispered. ‘I know it.’

‘This condition is familiar to you?’ asked Artemis.

His mother’s face and arms were coated with a clear gel that oozed from her pores and then steamed away. Angeline’s eyes were wide but only the whites were visible and her fingers clutched the sheets as though hanging on to life.

Holly took a medi-kit from her belt, placed it on the bedside table and used a swab to take a sample of the gel. ‘This gel. That smell. It can’t be. It can’t.’ ‘It can’t be what?’ asked Artemis, his fingers tight on her forearm.

Holly ignored him, slipping her helmet on and opening a channel to Police Plaza.

‘Foaly? Are you there?’

The centaur responded on the second buzz. ‘Right here, Holly. Chained to the desk. Commander Kelp has sent me a couple of mails asking where you are. I fobbed him off with the Ritual story. I reckon you have about–’ Holly interrupted his chatter. ‘Foaly, listen to me. Artemis’s mother. I think we have something… I think it’s bad.’ The centaur’s mood changed instantly. Holly suspected that he had been waffling to hide his anxiety. After all, Artemis’s message had been very grim.

‘OK. I’ll sync with the manor systems. Ask Artemis for his password.’ Holly lifted her visor to look Artemis in the eye. ‘Foaly wants your security password.’ ‘Of course, of course.’ Artemis was drifting and it took him a moment to remember his own secret word. ‘It’s CENTAUR. All caps.’ Below the Earth’s crust, Foaly stored the compliment in the corner of his brain that held treasured memories. He would take that one out later and gloat over a glass of sim-wine.

‘Centaur. Right. I’m in.’

A large plasma television on the wall flickered on and Foaly’s face appeared, first in blurred bubbles, then in sharp focus. The web cam in Artemis’s hand whirred as the centaur remotely fiddled with its focus motor.

‘The more points of view the better, eh?’ he said, his voice pulsing from the television speakers in surround sound.

Artemis held the camera before his mother’s face, holding it as still as possible.

‘I take it, from Holly’s reaction, that this condition is familiar to you?’ Holly pointed to the sheen covering Angeline’s face. ‘See the gel, Foaly, from the pores. And the smell of lilies too; there can’t be any doubt.’ ‘It’s impossible,’ muttered the centaur. ‘We eradicated this years ago.’ Artemis was growing weary of these vague references.

‘What is impossible? Eradicated what?’

‘No diagnosis just yet, Artemis; it would be premature. Holly, I need to run a scan.’ Holly positioned the palm of her hand over Angeline Fowl’s forehead and the omni-sensor in her glove bathed Artemis’s mother in a matrix of lasers.

Foaly’s finger swished like a metronome as the information was fed to his system. It was an unconscious movement that seemed too jolly for the situation.

‘OK,’ he said, after half a minute. ‘I have what I need.’

Holly closed her fist on the sensor, then stood with Artemis, clasping his hand in hers, silently awaiting the results. It did not take long, especially when Foaly had a good idea of his search parameters.

His face was grim as he read the results. ‘The computer has analysed the gel. I am afraid it’s Spelltropy.’ Artemis noticed Holly’s grip tightening. Whatever this Spelltropy was, it was bad.

He broke free from Holly, striding to the wall-mounted television. ‘I need an explanation, Foaly. Now, please.’ Foaly sighed, then nodded. ‘Very well, Artemis. Spelltropy was a plague among the fairy People. Once contracted, it was invariably fatal, and progressed to terminal stages in three months. From that point the patient has less than a week. This disease has everything. Neurotoxins, cell destruction, resistance to all conventional therapies, incredibly aggressive. It’s amazing, really.’ Artemis’s teeth were clenched. ‘That’s fabulous, Foaly. At last, something even you can admire.’ Foaly wiped a bead of sweat from his nose, pausing before he spoke. ‘There is no cure, Artemis. Not any more. I’m afraid your mother is dying. Judging by the concentration in the gel, I would say she has twenty-four hours, thirty-six if she fights. If it’s any consolation, she won’t suffer at the end.’ Holly crossed the room, reaching up to grasp Artemis’s shoulder, noticing how tall her human friend was becoming.

‘Artemis, there are things we can do to make her comfortable.’ Artemis shrugged her off, almost violently. ‘No. I can achieve wonders. I have talents. Information is my weapon.’ He returned his attention to the screen. ‘Foaly, forgive my outburst. I am myself now. You said that this Spelltropy was a plague; where did it begin?’ ‘Magic,’ said Foaly simply, then elaborated: ‘Magic is fuelled by the Earth and when the Earth could no longer absorb the sheer bulk of pollutants the magic became tainted also. Spelltropy first appeared about twenty years ago in Linfen, China.’ Artemis nodded. It made sense. Linfen was infamous for its high pollution levels. As the centre of China’s coal industry, the city’s air was laden with fly ash, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, volatile organic compounds, arsenic and lead. There was a joke among Chinese employers: if you hold a grudge against an employee, send him to work in Linfen.

‘It is passed on through magic, and thus is completely impervious to magic. In ten years, it had almost decimated the fairy population. We lost twenty-five per cent of our numbers. Atlantis was worst hit.’ ‘But you stopped it,’ Artemis insisted. ‘You must have found a cure.’ ‘Not me,’ said Foaly. ‘Our old friend Opal Koboi found the antidote. It took her ten years, then she tried to charge through the nose for it. We had to get a court order to confiscate the supply of antidote.’ Artemis was growing impatient. ‘I don’t care about the politics, Foaly. I want to know what the cure was, and why we can’t administer it to my mother.’ ‘It’s a long story.’

‘Abbreviate,’ snapped Artemis.

Foaly’s eyes dipped, unable to meet Artemis’s. ‘The cure occurred naturally. Many creatures contain an important pharmacopoeia and act as natural magic enhancers, but because of human activities more than twenty thousand of these potentially life-saving species become extinct every year. Opal developed a simple syringe gun to extract the cure for Spelltropy without killing the donor animal.’ Artemis suddenly realized why Foaly couldn’t look him in the eye. He cradled his head in his hands.

‘Oh no. Don’t say it.’

‘Opal Koboi found the antidote in the brain fluid of the silky sifaka lemur of Madagascar.’ ‘I always knew,’ moaned Artemis, ‘that this would come back.’ ‘Unfortunately the silky sifaka is now extinct. The last one died almost eight years ago.’ Artemis’s eyes were haunted by guilt.

‘I know,’ he whispered. ‘I killed it.’