Time Paradox by Eoin Colfer

Author:Eoin Colfer [Colfer, Eoin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction - Young Adult
ISBN: 9781423108375
Publisher: Disney Publishing Worldwide
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

PIGEON DROPPINGS

The Leather Souk, Fez Medina

Holly inflated a cham-pod and suckered it to the shadowy underside of the stone balcony overlooking Fez’s leather souk. When the coast was clear, she and Artemis climbed through the tiny access port, wiggling into the blow-up seats. Artemis’s knees knocked against his chin, clicking his teeth.

“Like I said, you’re getting tall,” said Holly.

Artemis blew a raven lock from his eye. “And hairy.”

“Your hair was the only thing that stopped little Arty from recognizing himself, so be glad of it.”

Holly had liberated the cham-pod duffel bag from the Tara lockup along with a single Neutrino handgun and suitable disguises. Artemis wore a knee-length brown shirt and thong sandals, while Holly’s fairy characteristics were hidden by an abaya and head scarf.

The cham-pod was an old portable model and was basically a ball with a transparent outer layer that was inflated by a tank of chromo-variable gas, which could change color to imitate the background. That was about as high-tech as it got. No directional equipment, no on-board weaponry, just a one-way touch screen and two cramped seats.

“No air filters?” wondered Artemis.

“Unfortunately not,” said Holly, pulling her scarf across her nose. “What is that smell?”

“Diluted pigeon droppings,” replied Artemis. “It’s highly acidic and, of course, plentiful. The tannery workers use it to soften the hides before dyeing them.”

The leather souk spread out below them was a spectacular sight. Huge stone vats were arranged across the courtyard in honeycomb patterns, each filled with either vegetable dyes such as saffron or henna, or acidic softeners. The leather workers stood in the dye vats, thoroughly soaking each skin, including their own, and when the hide had attained the desired hue, it was stretched on a nearby rooftop to dry.

“People say that Henry Ford invented the production line,” said Artemis. “This place has been going for six hundred years.”

The souk was enclosed by high walls painted white but mottled by dye and dust. Ocher stains spread across the ancient brick like the faded map of some exotic archipelago.

“Why did Kronski choose the souk?” wondered Holly. “The stink is almost unbearable, and I say that as a friend of Mulch Diggums.”

“Since birth Kronski has suffered from anosmia,” Artemis explained. “He has no sense of smell. It amuses him to conduct his business here, as whoever he happens to be meeting will be virtually assaulted by the smell from the acid vats. Their concentration is shattered and his is unaffected.”

“Clever.”

“Fiendishly. The area is a tourist attraction, so many people will pass through, but none hang around for too long.”

“So plenty of spectators but not many witnesses.”

“Apart from the locals, and Kronski doubtless has a dozen of those on his payroll who will see what he wants them to see.” Artemis leaned forward, his nose brushing the plastic portal. “And here is our fiendish Extinctionist now. Right on cue.”

The souk below was thronged with leather workers and merchants, long since inured to the sharp odor of the vats. Groups of die-hard tourists flitted

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