Two soldiers entered the room and at a gesture from Lord Cameron seized Flicks. The huge lord smiled mirthlessly, “Anything you’d like to say before they lock you up?”
Flicks sighed, “Ice-cream. That’s what I want: Ice-cream.”
“What?” Cameron’s eyebrows twisted in confusion and...Was that a tinge of horror? “Ice-cream?”
“Yeah,” Flicks said. “Ice-cream.”
“Ice-cream?” Lord Cameron said again.
Flicks looked at him, a bemused expression on her face. “Er...yes...Ice-cream...isn’t that what I just said?”
“But how do you know about Ice-cream?”
“Umm, I just...well...know about it. Is it not common knowledge?” Flicks replied.
Lord Cameron looked around the room almost nervously, as if expecting someone to creep up on him at any moment. After a second or so he shook himself, “Anyway. Guards! Take her to her room and lock her up.” He snarled at Flicks. “Enjoy your time, Skilf.” He turned his back and rubbed his chin with one hand, deep in thought.
One guard coughed.
Lord Cameron turned around sharply. “You’re still here?”
“Er...Yes sir,” The guard on Flicks’ right said.
“I said ‘take her away’ did I not?”
“Yes sir, but...” the guard gathered up his courage. “She said ice-cream sir.”
“What do I care if she said ice-cream?!” the lord roared angrily. “Get out of my sight this instant!”
The guards almost dropped Flicks in their haste to exit the room, but remembered at the last moment that they were meant to be locking her up and so dragged her out with them.
Flicks quickly found herself staring at a sparsely furnished room behind a hastily slammed and bolted door. She shrugged and sat down on the bed, “I guess this must be Skilf’s room,” she murmured, looking at her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall.
“I would guess so,” Fred said, disentangling herself from Flicks’ hair and half jumping, half gliding down onto the floor.
“Why do you think everyone was going weird with all the ice-cream business?” Flicks asked.
Fred twined her tail around the wooden leg of the bed. “I was going to ask what made you say something like that, but since you asked first, I’ll tell you my answer: Probably because it’s most people’s natural reaction when someone says the word ‘Ice-cream’,” Fred tilted her head to one side, surveying Flicks. “Do you even know what that word means?”
Flicks raised her eyebrows, “Umm, it means cold, creamy stuff that tastes really nice?”
The dragon’s jaw froze in the middle of a yawn and she stared at Flicks in half amazement. “Is that what you think Ice-cream is?”
“Yes,” Flicks said. “That’s the only Ice-cream I’ve ever heard of.”
“Ahhh, well I’ve no doubt you’ve probably got the right thing for the name, but the humans around here – including Skilf and Nainsi – say that Ice-cream is a powerfully magic word. It is apparently spoken when someone, generally the speaker, want to summon something. The stories vary, but usually what they summon isn’t very good for their enemies,” Fred finished speaking and jumped up onto the windowsill and looked out over the gloomy view.
Flicks blinked in surprise. “I had no idea,” she said, somewhat dazed.
“I’d guessed that halfway through the conversation,” Fred returned, curling her tail around her. This reminded Flicks distinctly of a cat, but she rather thought it better not to say so. She kept her mouth shut.
“So what do we do now?” Flicks asked several moments later.
Fred lifted her wings slightly in a dragon shrug. “I have no clue,” she replied. “Maybe Skilf or Larzik will come up with some kind of an idea.”
“Okay,” Flicks said, flopping backwards on the bed, lacing her fingers together under her head.
-------------------------------------------
“Hey! Sleepy head!”
The shout accompanied with loud bangs jolted Flicks from the sleep she hadn’t realised she’d entered. She leapt up out of bed, but promptly falling face first on the floor as the sheets of the bed wrapped themselves around her legs.
After a minute or so of struggling, Flicks freed herself and stood, looking around the room.
“I believe I was correct in assuming that Skilf or Larzik would have an idea,” Fred said from the window.
Flicks turned to her and caught sight of a face peering through the glass. She hurried over to the window and flashed a relieved smile to Skilf, trying to work out how to open the window.
“Lift the latch and push,” Skilf said through the glass.
Flicks found the latch and did as she instructed. Skilf’s head dropped out of sight as the opening widow nearly swiped it off her shoulders.
Flicks leant over the frame. “You okay?” she asked.
Skilf, glared up at her, “What are you trying to do? Kill me?”
“Well you said—”
“I didn’t tell you to knock my head off!” Skilf interrupted.
Flicks couldn’t think up a good enough reply so she reached her hand down to pull Skilf up. Skilf glared at the hand suspiciously, “Are you planning on dropping me?”
“No, I am not,” Flicks replied. “Just let me pull you in.”
Skilf submitted, placing her hand in Flicks’. Soon she was inside her room, dusting off her hands.
Flicks raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a plan?”
Skilf twisted her mouth to one side. “A plan? Not as such, more of an inkling.”
“An inkling?”
“Aye,” Skilf said, walking over to a cupboard. “An inkling that while we’re here we may as well investigate.”
Flicks watched interestedly as Skilf headed to the door with a thin metal rod. She slid this between the door and the wall, then lifted it, pushing the door with her shoulder. It swung open and Skilf tossed the rod aside. “After you,” she said.
Flicks grinned and walked out the door. Skilf dropped the heavy wooden bar back in place and turned to her, “I think we’ll take a look around the next floor up first, that’s where my uncle does most stuff. And, you never know, maybe we’ll find nothing. It’d be a pleasant change.”
Flicks snorted. “It would that,” she returned and followed Skilf as she led the way along the hall.
The climbed the wide, winding staircase and Skilf pointed to a large ornate door. “That’s Lord Cameron’s office room, where he makes private meetings and agreements,” Skilf whispered.
The door was firmly closed but Skilf dropped silently to the ground and pressed her eye to the crack below the door. Flicks heard her faint intake of breath and only just managed to stop herself from pushing Skilf aside so she could look.
Skilf stood slowly, her face quite pale. “I don’t think this is good news,” she breathed.
Flicks frowned, “What is it? What’s in there?”
Skilf gestured wordlessly for her look take a look. Flicks did, and although it was difficult to see under the door, she could see enough. She couldn’t help agreeing with Skilf; this didn’t look like a pleasant change.
~
1. There were only two people in the room that Flicks could see: Lord Cameron, lounging back in a large, well-padded chair, and a regally dressed, dark haired man. Flicks guessed quite easily who he was.
2. Of the two people in the room, Lord Cameron was the only one clearly visible. All you could see of his companion was his boots, covered in fine, red dust. But that was quite enough for Flicks and Skilf to know who it was.
3. Nainsi sat in clear view, her arms chained to her chair. Flicks’ eyes widened incredulously as she saw that Nainsi, as if oblivious to the chains, was calmly sipping a cup of steaming tea.
