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‘I must refuse,’ you say to Spittlethrift. ‘Mine is an urgent quest. The needs of many weigh heavily upon my shoulders.’
‘Ah now,’ Spittlethrift replies. ‘This is unfortunate.’ Suddenly, the many Academicians in the room rise as one and, before you can act, you and Tanith are held firmly by many hands and your Staff is snatched away.
‘Crabkey,’ calls Spittlethrift to the spindly man who now holds Tanith, his dagger at her heart, ‘take the girl away.’
You struggle against the restraining grip of the Academicians. ‘If you so much as harm her … ’
‘Yes, yes,’ says Spittlethrift, smoothly. ‘Fear not.’ Tanith is led from the room. ‘Our intention is merely to persuade you of the importance of our quest. She will be quite safe if you comply with our wishes.’
You cast Spittlethrift a scowl. ‘Very well. Since you offer me no choice … ’
‘Indeed, indeed. I thought you would see things our way. Now, come along—to the laboratory. I will show you the wondrous craft that will take you to the Singing City.’
You are led to a high-ceilinged chamber, lit with a curious, pulsating light and containing many strange and ornate machines of gleaming metal. Having attended to the imprisonment of Tanith, Crabkey enters the laboratory.
‘Allow me to introduce you properly to Mr Crabkey,’ says Spittlethrift. In the lurid glow of the laboratory his shadowed, bulging eyes make him look more sinister than before. ‘Mr Crabkey is the inventor of the machine that will enable you to make your journey, aren’t you Crabkey, old chap?’ Crabkey stares at you with his large, baleful eyes. With a slow blink, he makes an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat and nods.
‘Here,’ says Crabkey, ‘is the Ethetron.’ Mounted on a small dais in the centre of the laboratory is a most unusual machine.
