Eddy Stone and the Mean Genie's Curse Read online

  “Then this must be the happiest place in the world,” said Hen.

  “I like to think so, Bob,” said the Emperor. “Although you should hear them complaining that today’s shoes aren’t quite the right shade of orange, or dinner’s a bit too spicy, or they want a new house because the old one needs dusting.”

  The Genie clapped his hands. There was a brief flash on the Emperor’s head as a wide floppy hat appeared. In the far corner of the room, a soft mist gathered itself into a small cloud, and started to rain on a chicken that was sitting on a silk cushion. The chicken looked up with a surprised expression, which turned to one of utter astonishment when it clucked and strained and laid a long yellow object.

  “Banana, anyone?” said the Emperor, sucking the brim of his hat.

  “I think I’ll pass,” said Eddy.

  “So there you are,” said the Emperor. “Three ridiculous things in an instant just because I ask for them. The hat’s delicious, by the way, Bob.”

  “Thank you, master,” said the Genie.

  “Amazing,” said Hen. “It’s against all the rules of nature.”

  “And it gets so dull,” said the Emperor. “Oh, it was great at first. Anything I wanted, any time. But after a while, it was just more and more stuff. I started to wonder what the point was. But when things get muddled up and go wrong, and when you play tricks on people and see how they react – well that’s a different matter altogether. I never tire of it. Makes me laugh every time. Take your lunch for instance.”

  “How do you know about lunch?” said Eddy. “There was no one else there except the waiter.”

  “Oops!” said the Emperor. “Me and my big mouth.” Eddy looked more closely at the short, round figure. He imagined him with a bushy ginger beard and wig.

  “That was you,” said Eddy. “You were the waiter.”

  “Guilty as charged,” said the Emperor, in the husky voice he had used in the cafe. “You should have seen your faces when you had to eat the revolting muck that Bob here conjured up.”

  “You mean we had to swallow all that horrible – EUGH! –” the memory made Eddy feel ill – “just because you thought it was funny? What about how we felt?”

  “Oh, come on, Bob,” said the Emperor. “Where’s your sense of humour? And as for all that stuff that’s going on in Tidemark Bay, well you’ve got to admit that’s an absolute hoot.”

  “You know about Tidemark Bay?” said Eddy.

  “Of course,” said the Emperor. “We’ve been watching.”

  “The statue of me that you took home,” said the Genie. “It’s a sort of transmitter. Like having eyes and ears all round the town. We gave it to Mad Monty when she took the lamp so we would be able to see if old Witterwort ever got out.”

  “And I just love what he’s been up to,” said the Emperor. “So funny.”

  “The whole town in a terrible mess?” said Eddy. “I don’t think it’s funny at all. That’s why we’re here. We want you to lift the curse and put everything back how it was.”

  “Is there something wrong with my ears?” the Emperor snapped. “You do not tell me what to do.”

  “You shouldn’t frown like that,” Mitzee said. “It makes you look twice as old and half as handsome. And you don’t want that, do you, Babes?”

  “No, of course,” the Emperor stuttered, forcing his face back into a smile.

  “That’s better,” said Mitzee. “Now, if you really want me to like you, you have to be nice.”

  “I suppose we’ve had our fun with Tidemark Bay,” said the Emperor. “And if it will make you happy –” he smiled at Mitzee – “put it all back like it was, Bob.”

  “It’s not quite so simple, master,” said the Genie. “There is the matter of the curse.”

  “You put it on,” said the Emperor, “so you can take it off, can’t you?”

  “Of course, master. But there are certain conditions. And it will take a while,” said the Genie. “A while that we do not have. Your guest is almost here.”

  “I’d forgotten about him,” said the Emperor. “We’ll talk about Tidemark Bay tomorrow.”

  “Promise?” said Eddy.

  “You don’t ask me that. I am the Emperor. I said so and I will.”

  “You’re frowning again,” said Mitzee. “Turn it upside down, please.”

  From somewhere outside the palace came a blast of trumpets.

  “That’s him,” said the Emperor.

  “Who?” said Hen.

  “My neighbour, the Duke of Grimglower. Come and see,” said the Emperor. He led the way across the golden room to windows that looked out over the palace walls.

  A procession was making its way towards the entrance gate. Two burly trumpet players led a group of young women carrying baskets of deep purple rose petals that they were scattering on the ground. Behind them, six muscular men sweated to carry a padded chair slung between two stout poles. A thin figure dressed in a black suit and hat was seated in the chair. He was flanked by a dozen guards, who carried long spears with black pennants that hung limply in the still air.

  “He’s so full of himself,” said the Emperor. “And so dull and miserable all the time. But we’re going to have a little bit of fun with him, aren’t we, Bob?”

  “As we planned, master.”

  The Genie puffed out his cheeks and blew. A breeze began to flutter the pennants on the guards’ spears. The rose petals that lay on the ground started to swirl and swoop, then formed into a whooshing whirlwind that whipped across the procession, sending the Duke’s hat spinning into the sky and ripping the baskets from the young women’s hands. More and more petals were sucked into the twisting column that soon rose as high as a house.

  The Genie breathed a sound that was half sigh, and half roar. The seething spiral of petals shifted its shape into the form of a gigantic rearing snake, poised to strike the line of people below. The young women shrieked and threw themselves to the floor. The line of guards stood firm for a moment until the snake’s head started to descend on them. Then they also shrieked and scattered. The bearers dropped the chair and the Duke tumbled onto the ground.

  The Genie sucked in a deep breath. The wind died as quickly as it had risen, and a shower of rose petals fell through the air.

  “Love the snake, Bob,” the Emperor said with a laugh. “Now I must not be rude. Time to go and say hello.”

  The Duke was still being dusted down when the Emperor arrived at the front gate.

  “Bit breezy today,” the Emperor said cheerfully. “Come on in and have some tea. And there’s no need for your guards. We’re all friends here.”

  The Genie gave a wave, and the long spears that the guards were carrying drooped to the ground, their shafts turned to jelly and the blades to feathers.

  Tea was a spectacular affair. The Genie conjured up fruits that burst in the mouth like honey bombs, delicately spiced cakes decorated with spun sugar that glinted like gold thread, and pots of creamy froth ripe with the taste of summer berries and the scent of sunlit orchards.

  Eddy, Hen and Mitzee didn’t feel like eating much after their revolting lunch. But they took a drink. The Duke had brought a delicious cordial flavoured with pineapple and ginger. It was a speciality of his homeland, he explained, insisting that everyone must taste it. And they all agreed that it was excellent.

  After food came the entertainment. There were musical instruments that played themselves, brightly coloured birds that performed dizzying acrobatics in dazzling formations, and a dancing bolt of lightning – all the work of the Genie. The performance lasted long into the evening, and when it ended applause from everyone in the room rang long and loud. Even the Duke seemed to have softened a little after such lavish hospitality.

  The Emperor turned to address him.

  “My dear Duke, before we all retire to our beds for the night, I would like to present you with a gift – a token of the respect that I have for you.”

  From behind his chair he pulled out a silver
casket as big as a cushion.

  “You are too kind,” the Duke said, taking the casket from him. He stood up so everyone could see and lifted the lid.

  The spring mechanism was quick and powerful. By the time anyone heard the BOING!!! the Duke’s face was already full of the custard pie that it had flung at him.

  The Emperor exploded in high-pitched giggles.

  “Got you!” he shouted.

  The Duke stood stock-still for a moment. Then without a sound he reached into a pocket and pulled out a large black handkerchief. He wiped the gunk first from his eyes, then from round his nose, and finally from over his mouth.

  “HOO-HOO-HOO!” the Emperor hooted. He rolled off his chair and onto the floor, quivering with laughter. “Your face! Oh, the look on your face!”

  Eddy could see the look on the Duke’s face. It chilled him to the bone.

  That night, Eddy slept well.

  The next morning, Eddy woke badly.

  His head was thumping, and something noisy was happening in the street outside.

  He went to the window and looked out over the market. A crowd of people were pointing at the palace walls and shouting. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but they didn’t look happy.

  He opened the window – then wished he hadn’t. Voices banged against his eardrums. But he could hear words now. One woman was holding up a shoe and yelling, “This is muddy. I need a new pair. Why are there no shoes today?”

  And a man was pointing at his shirt front and shouting, “I’ve lost a button. This shirt is ruined. I want another one!”

  What was going on? Eddy went to see if he could find out.

  He found the Emperor slumped on a chair in the golden room, with Mitzee next to him.

  “It’s a calamity,” said the Emperor. “When I woke up this morning that wretched Duke and all his people were gone. And the Genie and his baked bean tin were nowhere to be seen. The Duke must have stolen them in the night. My guards were out cold. It was that cordial that the Duke made sure everyone drank. I’m sure it was drugged.”

  “So that’s why my head is sore,” said Eddy. “Do you mean that the Duke is now the Genie’s master?”

  “No,” said the Emperor. “The Genie gets back in his tin every night and seals the lid. You need the magic ring pull to get him out. And that’s still safely on its chain round my neck. Without it the Duke will never open the tin. It’s completely indestructible. So he can’t command the Genie to do anything. But neither can I,” he snuffled.

  “There, there, Babes,” said Mitzee. She patted his hand.

  “What is all that row out there?” asked Hen, as she came into the room.

  “It’s the people,” said the Emperor. “They are used to getting stuff every morning. We had a lot of crackers in the palace larder left over from a party that will feed them for a day or two. But they want clothes and shoes and shiny things. And without the Genie, there won’t be any more of those.”

  “What?” said Mitzee. “No more nice things ever?”

  “None at all,” said the Emperor. Mitzee stopped patting his hand.

  “Can’t you get the Genie back?” said Eddy. “The Duke can’t have got far. If you send your best soldiers…”

  “What soldiers?” said the Emperor. “We got rid of the army years ago. The Genie was all the protection we needed. But you’re right. We need to gather people to go after him.”

  He went to the window and flung it open.

  “Listen to me,” he shouted to the crowd. The angry voices died down.

  “For many years I have given you all you have asked for. But today I must ask for something from you.”

  And then the BOOing started.

  “In this moment of need…” the Emperor went on.

  “I’ll tell you about need!” a voice yelled. “We need new socks!”

  “We must stand together…”

  “And cake!” yelled another voice. “Let us eat cake!”

  “What’s happened to the Genie?” asked another.

  And then a shoe flew through the air and whistled past the Emperor’s ear.

  A barrage followed.

  The Emperor stepped back and shut the window, as footwear pelted against it.

  “They aren’t going to help you,” said Hen.

  “So we’ll have to,” said Eddy. “We need the Genie to lift the curse and get Tidemark Bay back to normal. Are you with me, Hen?”

  “Of course,” said Hen.

  “So the two of us…”

  “Make that three, Babes,” said Mitzee.

  “But, gorgeous…” the Emperor began.

  “Gorgeous nothing,” said Mitzee. “I’m not stopping here if there are no new goodies. If we need the Genie to get them back on tap, then I’m in.”

  “Where will the Duke be going?” said Eddy.

  “Back home to Grimglower Castle,” said the Emperor. “It’s north of here.”

  “Then that’s where we’re heading,” said Eddy.

  “You can’t take the main road,” said the Emperor. “I’m sure he’ll leave guards posted along it. Luckily, there is another way.”

  “Don’t tell me,” said Eddy. “We can fly using the magic carpet that the Genie made for you.”

  “Magic what?” said the Emperor.

  “Carpet,” said Eddy. “They’re in all the books.”

  “What a daft idea,” said the Emperor. “How can you fly on a carpet? For a start there’s nothing to hold on to. One quick turn and you’d be over the edge and hurtling to the ground. No, I can’t see how that would work at all.”

  “Oh,” said Eddy, rather disappointed. “So what is the other way?”

  “The desert road,” said the Emperor. “They’ll never expect you to use that.”

  “Why not?” said Hen.

  “Because it’s so dan— neglected.”

  “Were you going to say dangerous?” said Eddy.

  “There are one or two tricky bits. The Whispering Sands, for instance.”

  “And what happens there?”

  “They whisper,” said the Emperor.

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Eddy.

  “And there are a few birds to look out for.”

  “What sort of birds?”

  “You’ll know when you see one,” said the Emperor. “I can’t give you a jet-propelled bath mat or anything like that. But I can give you a plan of Grimglower Castle to help you to find your way round. And lots of crackers and water. You’d better take a donkey to carry the supplies. There is a fellow down in the market who will sort you out. Good luck.”

  He only just managed to stop himself from adding, “You’ll need it.”

  “No. No donkeys today.” The man in the market shook his head.

  “It’s for a job for the Emperor,” said Eddy.

  “Especially not for the Emperor,” said the man.

  “But you’ve got loads of donkeys just sitting around,” said Eddy. “A whole big herd.”

  “Or is it a flock?” said Mitzee.

  “Today it is a strike,” said the man. “A whole big strike of donkeys. I had to eat dry crackers for breakfast, instead of honey and fruit. No breakfast, no donkey.”

  “There won’t be any breakfast tomorrow either unless we get the Genie back,” said Eddy, “and we can’t do that without help to carry our supplies.”

  “So really, it’s no donkey, no breakfast,” Hen joined in.

  “Hmm.” The man thought for a moment. “I tell you what. You may have a camel. That camel.” He pointed over to where all his animals were tethered. There were a dozen camels. The one he was pointing at was sitting in a small pen of its own.

  “Why that one?” said Eddy.

  “Because if you never come back and I lose that useless beast, it is no matter,” said the man. And with that he turned and walked away.

  “I wonder why he picked this one,” said Eddy. “It doesn’t look any worse than the others.”

  “They
aren’t your favourite animals, then?” said Hen.

  “They’re smelly and grumpy and they look like they were designed as a joke,” said Eddy. “What’s to like?”

  “I think they’re quite sweet,” said Hen. She held out her hand to the lone camel. “Aren’t you?”

  The camel looked up at her and let out a loud dribbly belch. A smell wafted through the air, like something that was lurking at the bottom of a bin long after it should have gone to the rubbish tip.

  “How do you think we get him to stand up?” said Eddy.

  “I don’t know,” said Hen. “I’m better with machines. They have knobs and switches to make them do things. Come on, camel, up you get.” She waved her arms in encouragement.

  “HUP!” Eddy demonstrated by jumping in the air. “HUP! HUP!”

  The camel stared back at them. The camel slowly chewed a mouthful of hay. The camel did not hup.

  “I don’t suppose that one of your outfits was a zookeeper, was it?” Eddy said to Mitzee. “A zookeeper would know what to do.”

  “Far too smelly for me,” said Mitzee. “I had a pony but he never sat down because he didn’t have bendy knees.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Hen. “The camel’s got something stuck in his ears. Maybe he just can’t hear us.” She looked more closely, and pulled a big ball of cotton wool out of each hairy ear. “Can you get up, please?” she asked quietly.

  “Oh, I see,” said the camel, in a drawling voice. “So that’s what all the jumping and waving was about. I thought you must be part of some travelling dance show.”

  He gave another chew.

  “No,” said Eddy. “We’re not dancers.”

  “Good job,” said the camel. “You were terrible.”

  “We need you to go on a journey with us,” said Eddy. “So – um, sorry, do you have a name?”