6 Winged Chariots and Pond Monsters, Oh My!

Terry hadn't seen Lady Foltsini since the day she walked into the offices. Still, in accordance with her instructions, Terry and some of her colleagues set off to the Grand Merview around quarter-past-nine in the morning.

Make sure to get there before half-nine, the letter said. Or the horses might get impatient.

Terry had no idea what she meant by that, but decided it was better to obey all her instructions--just in case.

When they arrived at the hotel, the valets and secretaries were exceedingly polite to them. She had never been in a place like this--all mahogany and chandeliers and marble tiles in that spectacular atrium-foyer.

The fairy-dust-fuelled lift brought them up to the roof-gardens: lush to the point of almost being overgrown, alive with ambrosial scents. And the views--they had to be some of the best in all of Debens.

In the garden's centre there was a strip of grass, a runway, in the midst of which her chariot stood. Two pure-white winged horses--pegasi--stood chomping their bits in front of it. To Terry, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Her stomach churned. Clara patted her arm nervously, saying everything would be alright; Dixie burst into tears as Gabriela, wearing a maid's uniform and a sullen expression, came up to Terry.

'Remind me why I have to wear this,' she growled.

'It's the only way I could get you in on such short notice,' Terry snapped back, still not quite liking her. 'You're going to be Teresa di Lampedusa's maid, or you won't be coming at all.'

That quietened her.

As the hotel staff prepared the chariot, Carlo asked to talk to Terry alone. He looked drawn and tired--but wide-eyed, as if he still hadn't fully processed what was happening.

'Remember,' he said, 'Keep your eyes open; funny things go on in that place.'

What could she say to that? Well, she thanked him for his advice; it was time to go, now. The staff helped her and Gabriela into the chariot. Dixie was sobbing harder than ever. Terry gingerly picked up the reigns, but the hotel secretary, who had left her post downstairs unattended, shook her head.

'They know where to go already.'

Terry and Gabriela waved goodbye as the handlers released their hold on the horses' bridles. They stomped, snorted. Then there was a sudden lurch.

'Hold on tight!'

The horses put on a burst of speed--Terry thought she might hurl up her breakfast--a moricment later, they were in the air; they were flying. She had never felt anything like it. The city grew smaller beneath them and the hot summer air turned bracingly chilly.

Terry leaned back and closed her eyes, relaxing into the comfortable seat. Gabriela kept her mouth firmly tight, as if she was trying her very best not to vomit. Neither of them could fully believe what was going; both were in shock. Through luck, cunning and pure nerve, they would soon be rubbing shoulders with the rich, famous and royal. More than that--they would be going to school with them.

~

At long last, several hours later, they were descending: spiralling down over a forest. It was past noon and Gabriela had been complaining for a while that she was hungry.

The chariot landed in a clearing before a pair of eerie marble gates. Upon closer inspection, the trees around them weren't normal colours: their barks were periwinkle-blue, but their stems and leaves were violet and magenta and plum--a whole rainbow of purple shades. Terry shivered. This place was a bit creepy.

There was a pond nearby; she noticed the water stir. Both girls jumped when a horse leapt out with a splash--only it wasn't a horse, but a goat, now: a nasty, sinister-looking goat, who changed form once again before their eyes. Now, he was a small, stout little man with curled horns emerging from his head.

'Who goes there? If you're not meant to be here, Coinín Mac an Éan will see to your punishment himself.'

Gabriela was petrified with terror; Terry, however, summoned up her courage and tried to seem haughtily unperturbed by his threats. 'I'm Lady Teresa di Lampedusa of Inadala. I have come to assume my place at Coelis.'

'Coinín Mac an Éan has never heard of a Teresa di Lampedusa; you will have to prove it, or Coinín will see to it that you pay for your transgression.'

She was really beginning to panic now. 'This is ridiculous,' she squawked. 'Once my family hears of this--'

'You'll be quiet, now, milady, if you want to live to see the next morning,' warned Coinín, wagging his finger. 'Coinín is a cunning fellow--oh, yes, he is. He mashes one bone with another--a bigger bone--and he makes nice broth, so he does. He punishes those who cross him; he serves his Lady faithfully. He kills two squirrels with one bash--he bashes their skulls together until they crumble like leaves underfoot; he punishes nasty boys and girls by giving them poisoned berries, then plucking their eyelashes out, one by one, and putting a silver needle through their pupils--'

'Coinín!'

The gates were open--a girl stood there, a very pretty girl with dark curly hair and brown skin, wearing a baby-blue coat and silk trousers.

'Go off, now, a Choinín, and leave these poor girls alone.'

Coinín hissed and transformed back into a horse; he galloped into the pond and disappeared into its depths with an almighty splash.

'Sorry about that,' the girl sighed. 'He can be a bit troublesome.'

Gabriela gasped; when Terry recognised who she was, she gasped as well. It was Emery: the confident, beautiful princess of the largest kingdom on the Continent, Balendove, who was so famous that she rivalled the Big Two--because of her, some called the Big Two the Big Three. And to meet her in the flesh--well, this left both girls thunderstruck.

'Hi, I'm Emery,' she said, as if she wasn't one of the most famous people on the planet. 'You're Teresa di Lampedusa, right?' She turned to Gabriela. 'And you are...?'

'Her maid,' Gabriela croaked.

'Oh, okay,' said Emery, and smiled. 'Well, welcome to Coelis. I'm Prefect this year--if you follow me, I'll show you the way.'