A/N: the layout of the chapter might look a bit different than usual because I'm uploading it as a Word document this time. The reason: ffnet started to screw up my ellipses and my apostrophe's: all were changed into question marks. So I had to try Word format instead of html.
Warning: this chapter is somewhat patriotic. Well… a bit… over-patriotic ;) Sorry about that, I couldn't help mentioning a few nice things about my country :)
Queen Dragon: yes, it explains the cover. And yes, they're going back to get the information :)
the Thirteenth Councilor: so, Nat/Kitty are a bit like Arty/Holly, then. I just hope Arty doesn't die any time soon… I'm still mourning Nat, even though I know he turned evil. For someone who only read book one he'll always be a loveable, talented and downtrodden hero.
AnnieThePipster: about the question marks: please see the comment I put in the A/N of the previous chapter, right above the chapter's title. I see your point with time travel, that's why I didn't want to write such fics for a long time… but this once it seemed a good idea to play with time a bit ;) Artemis badly needs this little time travel to sort out his priorities.
Anonymous: I have no idea how cold/warm 60 degrees is (you use Farenheit, right?)… we in Europe use Celsius degrees, and that's completely different. I'm glad I managed to make you like Mulch, because I like him a lot! He's the funniest character, IMHO. Emese is pronounced as 'Ehmesheh'. Typical Hungarian name – the Hungarian language is full of 'e's. We can write short stories by using 'e' as the only vowel. We call such stories 'Esperente' based on 'Esperanto' ;)
C-chan1: I have absolutely no idea what DST is. Three princes at the same time… Well, similar things might happen in the fic too ;)
I should be Studying: I don't wear rings ;) Arty getting his genius back… weeeeell… As for Patrick – no, he won't fall for Juliet, I just wanted to show with that little scene that he was starting to turn into a teenager… he will act like one in the near future.
refloc: I'm not sure which Hun you are referring to… Attila, perhaps? Because if yes, then yes, he WAS real. He lived in the fifth century, was a great king, feared by the whole of Europe. Most things that you will read about him in this fic come from history books and legends, but some elements are made up by me.
Marissa the Scamp: Opal will only appear for two short scenes. Foaly won't have much of a role either. He'll have five-six scenes, no more. Emese is more ruthless, you'll see later. And she's a bit mad too, of course ;)
Lii: I've seen HP3 and read the book too, obviously. And the time travel in HP will be mentioned in this fic as well, in chapter… 9, I think. After all, Patrick is a HP fan :)
SPG: why would you want to stop reviewing? I'm glad that you review!
Chixawitch: ffnet didn't recognise my ellipses.
Also thanks to: Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, frenchpiment, hogwartscharmed1, Rebel Rose, Zodokai, Purple Eyes Cat, The OddBird, hello, kellylien, Trouble Kelp, Adaia Swordmaiden, Mousewolf, 123amSObored, BeatlesLover, lil-buddy, Bethany, AutumnBreeze25, septempopuli, anonymous, The Flying Moose, ebtwisty9, Lady Emerald Black, Teya Yashitoda, iccy
Chapter 7
A Theory of Time-travel
"A time-machine?" Patrick echoed his father's words with a doubtful edge to his voice. "You must be kidding."
"Well, not really a time-machine… yet. It's unfinished," Artemis replied.
"But… but Dad… it's impossible… totally impossible to travel through time, it's against all the rules of logic and definitely all the rules of physics!" The boy protested.
"And isn't the Star Trek-style transportation against all the rules of physics?" Artemis arched an eyebrow at Patrick, referring to the project the boy was currently working on.
"Well…" Patrick stared at the watch look-alike in his father's hands. "You have a point."
"I usually do." Artemis nodded. "However, I'm incapable of finishing this, I don't have the mental capacities anymore. You've got to do it instead if we want to go back in time and find that fairy in her own time."
"Her own time? You mean… Attila's time?" The young half-elf's eyes widened. "You can't be serious!"
"Why, what else can we do? Name one option, just one that is more sensible and more accomplishable than this one, and I won't hesitate to accept it. Use your famous brains, and come up with something. I'm waiting." With that Artemis put the watch on the nearby table and sat in an armchair, crossing his legs. Patrick had never seen him so arrogant before. Yes, his father looked arrogant and sounded sarcastic, but there was something else on his features too. Envy, Patrick noticed. So that's why his father had spat the words 'your famous brains' like that… He envied his son for his genius. That genius had come from Artemis, Patrick knew that. If it weren't for Artemis - if the fairies had chosen someone else as his biological father - he wouldn't have his wonderful intelligence. Artemis had been the source, he had been the spring, but that spring had dried out. It had died.
An invisible hand stabbed an invisible dagger into the boy's heart. How he pitied this Mud Man! How he longed to help him… if only there was a way to give his father at least part of his genius back! Patrick found himself thinking he would gladly give up half of his own intellect if that could be somehow transferred into Artemis.
Sarcastic or not, arrogant or not, this Mud Man was his father, and in the past few months Patrick had learned not only to honour him, but to like him as well. He couldn't even feel angry with Artemis for his latest words. He had a good enough idea what his father was going through, and he couldn't blame him for his arrogant behaviour. Artemis couldn't find his place, and that caused him to act like that. Simple psychology.
"No." Patrick shook his head. "I can't think of another way. At least not of a way that would not endanger Mum's fairy-reputation. It's… really nice of you to want to keep her honour before the fairies, you know…"
"Nice," Artemis snorted. "That must've been the first time someone mentioned the word 'nice' in connection with me or any of my actions. Don't call me nice," he said, raising to his feet. "I don't deserve it. If there's one good thing you can say about me, then it's the fact that I love your mother. And I'd do anything to save her."
"Even go back a thousand years in time…" Patrick muttered, snatching the 'watch' off the table. "Looks like quite an elaborate contraption. Can you explain it to me, or do you have notes on its development-process?"
"Loads of notes, actually. I hope you can make something out of them and finish this little beauty."
"I'm sure I can." The boy nodded. "But not without you. We're in this together, Father. We're going to finish it together."
Artemis gave his son a wry smile. "I doubt I'll be much of a help, but I'll be around if you need me."
o o o O O O o o o
"So, how's our pretty prisoner doing?"
"Quite well, Cesare," Emese replied. "She seemed fairly calm for someone who's been kidnapped. Calm? Well, except for the fact that she threatened me with beating the crap out of me." The woman let out a small, cold laugh. "A fiery little wench, this young Mrs Fowl."
"Si, she definitely is." Cesare Cavalieri nodded. He had only met Holly on a few occasions when assigning her new translation tasks, but he had always had the impression that she was a feisty person, someone who could set things (especially men's hearts) on fire, by merely looking at them. No wonder that even indifferent Artemis Fowl warmed up a bit having this red-headed witch at his side. "But her husband…" he continued, "you should have seen him at the wedding after you abducted his little wife… That Fowl boy is the epitome of stoicism. If I hadn't known what was going on in his mind, I wouldn't have noticed anything. The way he came down the stairs and announced that his wife didn't feel up to rejoining the guests… well, that was some masterful acting! I take my hat off to him."
"Whatever." The woman waved irritably. "I don't care for Fowl's talents in making a poker face, Cesare. I'm only interested in the sword."
"Va bene, va bene, dear Miss Hunfalvy. You'll get your wonderful sword," the man replied in a tired voice.
"I do hope I will. But of course Mrs Fowl isn't helping too much. She denies knowing anything about Attila. So I had to contact her husband."
"I hope you emailed him from a neutral territory. I wouldn't be happy if young Fowl traced the email back to here."
"I emailed him from Dublin airport. No need to worry."
"Easy to say, my dear accomplice. You can't lose much if things turn bad – besides your freedom, of course. But I could lose much more. Not only my freedom and big plans, but Timmy's trust and friendship as well. You know how much his friendship means to me…" Cavalieri sent his companion a sarcastic grin.
"I can imagine it." Emese grinned back. "I bet that fool never noticed you were just pumping him for money…"
"No, he did not. But his son did, at least I think so. Young Artemis never seemed too trusting towards me."
"Wonder why?" The woman playfully raised an eyebrow at him. "That man is a genius, after all. I bet he can see through many things. If I were you, I would be praying he didn't see through your current game."
"Don't worry about that, Emese. I was there at the wedding, and left as the last of the guests. He couldn't suspect me. I was dancing there, in front of his eyes while someone evil kidnapped his red-haired fairy. I have the perfect alibi. And even if his cameras managed to record something, you were wearing that hood all along, weren't you?"
"I was."
"See? Then he couldn't have seen your face. And even if he did, he couldn't tell you were working for me, as no one here in Ireland knows about our connection. The only way he could start suspecting me is…" The archaeologist's voice trailed off.
"How?" The woman demanded.
"If old Tim suddenly remembered having told me about Holly being a fairy. But he was too drunk to remember anything, so I'm not worried. You're right, I should not worry. Not in the least. Soon I'll be famous and celebrated. The man who found Attila's grave!"
"Before you get carried away, aren't you a bit afraid that young Artemis might report you to the police after he gets his wife back and you suddenly appear on the newspapers' front page as the second Howard Carter?"
"First, I will not be the second Howard Carter!" Cavalieri snapped. "Second? I have greater ambitions than to be called a 'second', dearest Emese. As for Fowl reporting me… nah. If he did, he would need to tell the police about the whole fairy-business too, and I doubt he would want to. He'll have to sit back and watch as I become world-famous. And then old Tim too can turn against me if he will, I won't need his pitiful donations anymore."
"Sounds good. Sounds too optimistic, to tell you the truth," she said thoughtfully. "But it sounds sort of realistic too. Young Fowl would not want to reveal anything about the fairies, so he'll just have to keep his mouth shut and be happy that he got his beloved wife back. You'll be famous… and I'll be satisfied." A greedy smirk spread on Miss Hunfalvy's elegant features. "Finally, what is rightfully mine, will belong to me. The Sword of God… oh, if I close my eyes I can already feel its hilt in my hand…"
"And you tell me not to get carried away," Cesare commented in an amused voice. "Do tell, how can you be so sure that the sword is hidden in the grave? There are legends that the last Hun shaman carried it with himself into the Carpathian Mountains and hid it somewhere up there."
"The legends!" Miss Hunfalvy waved. "Legends are legends, but history is history. And there is a tale, a true story that was passed down by generations of Huns that the sword was buried with Attila. That legend about the shaman and the Carpathians was made up to mislead the other folks living around in the Carpathian basin. But we, the Huns, know better."
"How long will you keep insisting that you're the last of the Huns?" Signor Cavalieri rolled his eyes.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" the woman asked sharply. "I can assure you I'm not. I'm perfectly sane, thank you very much. And I am the last living descendant of Attila! Thus his sword belongs to me. I told you, Cesare: I don't need any of the gold that you find in his grave. Nothing, but the Sword of God. I agreed to go into this madness with you, to commit a crime, just to get what is rightfully mine. And I will get it, if that's the last thing I do."
As the man glanced at his companion, he felt a shiver run down his spine. The fire blazing in Emese's eyes was creepy. It was a fire of both enthusiasm and fanaticism. There was no doubt: if this woman wanted something, she'd get it.
o o o O O O o o o
"A time-machine?" Juliet gasped. "You've got to be kidding, Arty."
"Am not. It's the only way of finding that particular fairy," Artemis replied seriously. "At least it seems to be the only way. Even Patrick confirmed that, and he's the brains of the family."
Ignoring the hardly-hidden bitterness in his father's voice, Patrick nodded. "Indeed. Dad showed me his invention along with the 3D blueprint of the whole contraption, and it seems to be near to perfection. I think with a few days' work, I will be able to complete it. But of course it will take another few days to build a second one…"
"A second one?" Root raised a greyish eyebrow at the boy.
"Yeah, because I'm going with Dad."
"Normally I would refuse to let you come and put you in danger, but we'll need someone who can think clearly," Artemis agreed.
"But… but sending him back in time? He's just a child, Fowl!" the commander objected.
"A child with the highest IQ on the face of Earth," Patrick replied coolly. "Father said it right, we will need all brain cells to fare in a world so different from ours. We will need all cunning to persuade the Huns that we come with good intentions and of course to get that fairy lady to trust us. I'm going, and you can't stop me, Uncle Julius. I'm doing it for Mum."
The commander's strict features seemed to soften at the mention of Holly.
"Well, then, make three of those watch-thingies, 'cause I'm coming too," Mulch interjected.
"Four, because I'm coming too," Root added.
Juliet just opened her mouth to say 'five, because I'm coming too', but Artemis held up a hand to stop the words that wanted to leave her mouth. "One: I like the idea of Mulch joining us, he might come in handy with his extraordinary talents. However, I must insist that you stay here, Commander. Or rather, in Haven. Stay and pretend that everything's all right. Spread the news that Patrick went on a trip to Atlantis to visit his mother. As for you, Juliet, stay here and divert my parents' attention."
"But…" the female Butler began, but Artemis waved to silence her.
"This is a risky mission, Juliet. Risky, but hopefully not dangerous enough for me to need a bodyguard. However, it's risky enough to endanger or delay our return. So you'll have to be around and engage Mother's attention in case we're late in coming back."
"But what counts as late?" Butler asked.
"Saturday," Artemis replied. "The one week we got from the kidnapper ends on Saturday. If we don't manage to come back by then, then it will be late."
"And how can you come back by Saturday if Patrick needs at least five-six days to complete three watches?" The one-time bodyguard enquired. "By the time he finishes them, you will need to be back already because the time set by the kidnapper will be up. You won't have any time to go back in time and spend some time there to figure things out about this fairy woman… or am I completely wrong?"
"If everything goes well, we can come back just in time, actually one second after we left," Artemis explained.
"One second? What?" Mulch frowned. He was definitely losing it.
Artemis heaved a sigh. This was going to be difficult. "Let's imagine that Patrick completes the three time-machines on Friday, at noon. We leave at 12:01. However, in the past, we can set the machines to bring us back to Friday 12:01:01."
"Why not to sometime earlier, then? Like… your wedding day? Yes, why not go back to your wedding day and stop the whole kidnapping?" Root suggested.
"Out of the question." Artemis shook his head. "I have a theory about time-travel… In movies and fantasy books you can see the characters going back in time and seeing themselves in their years or days or hours younger state. However, this is impossible. Don't ask why, it would be too difficult to explain… come to think of it, I'm not even sure I could still explain it and make it sound sensible. The point is that I have thought of this a lot, before Holly appeared and gave me my memories back. I kept thinking for months… well, years, and I created a theory… or more than a theory, as I'm sure it's right. According to this theory, you can't go back to a time when you already existed. You can't be there along with your younger self. It's a physical impossibility. However, you can go back to any date before you were conceived, because back then you didn't exist. So, you could go back a second before your conception, but once that second is over and you are conceived, something goes seriously amiss."
"What?" Mulch enquired.
"I don't know." Artemis shook his head. "I can merely guess, but it's highly likely that if you exist only a millisecond at the same time with your younger self, one of you ceases to exist, as there cannot be more than one of you at once. Either you die in your current state, or that fertilized egg that is supposed to be you gets destroyed, and with that, your future self ceases to exist as well. Practically, you die either way."
"That's horribly disillusioning," Juliet sighed. "I so loved Back to the Future II, with two cutesy Marty McFlies at once…"
Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but there won't be two cutesy Artemis Fowls anywhere at once."
"Course, Arty, one of you is cute enough." Juliet winked at him.
"Be careful with assertions like that, little sister. If Holly were here, she'd be jealous," her brother reminded her.
A minute of silence ensued. If Holly were here…
"Well, let's get down business," Artemis spoke up. "Come, Son, let's finish the time-machine."
o o o O O O o o o
"So Artemis developed a time-machine?" Foaly whistled admiringly. "Why am I not surprised? Actually, such a good idea should have occurred to me…"
Root waved irritably. "He didn't let me go with them!"
"And he was right," the centaur pointed out. "He might not be a genius anymore, but apparently he still has more sense than some…"
"Are you referring to me, Civilian?" Root barked, lighting a fungus cigar.
"Oh, nooooo, why would I?" Foaly said innocently. "But the Mud Boy has a point, admit it. Haven needs you, Julius. Holly left, you can't leave too. Who would be our dear commander if you did? Ark Sool, perhaps?"
"Don't even mention that idiot to me," Root grunted, accidentally biting off a part of his cigar.
"Bet you're just jealous of him, Julius…"
"Jealous?" Root's eyebrows ran high on his forehead. "What do you mean, pony boy? Why would I be jealous of Sool?"
"Well, perhaps because the lovely Vinyáya is giving him a bit more attention lately than to you…" Foaly said with a polite smile.
"Annie isn't giving him more attention!"
"Annie?" The centaur looked amused.
"Well, that's her name…" Root shrugged. "And, just so that you know, the only reason why the wing-commander is pretending to give Sool attention is to make me jealous."
"Yeah, of cooourse…"
The door of Ops Booth slid open and in marched Wing-Commander Vinyáya. "Greetings, Commander." She nodded in Root's direction. "Hello, Foaly. I've brought you my malfunctioning Neutrino, you said you could fix it in a second…"
"Half a second, actually." The centaur smirked.
The female elf handed him the weapon then turned back to Root. "How was your trip to Atlantis?"
"Pleasant, Wing-Commander, thank you. Little Patrick was very excited to see his mother again."
"So how long is Comm… Miss Short going to stay in Atlantis?" she asked.
"As long as her sick old great-aunt needs her."
"Hmm. If I may voice my opinion, I don't think that a LEP Commander should quit her job just to take care of a sick relative. That's what nurses are for. A LEP Commander should have more sense of responsibility, don't you think? A LEP Commander has to serve thousands of fairies, not just one. Then again, we couldn't expect anything else from Holly Short, could we? A little too young and rash for such responsibility…" The woman's strict features softened a bit and Root and Foaly could have sworn they saw the shadow of a smile on her face. "Nice to have you back, Commander."
Minutes after she left, Root was still wondering what she had meant: nice to have him back after two days of absence, nice to have him back after several years spent under Holly's slightly imprudent commandership, or nice to have him back just because… she liked him?
o o o O O O o o o
Three days had passed since Artemis had made the big announcement about his planned time-travel. Patrick was endlessly working on the time-machine (he had finished the first one the previous day but he had to build two more, and not only complete them like with the first one but build them from the beginning.) Patrick occasionally asked his father for advice, but Artemis saw through the boy's game: he wanted to make sure his father felt needed. Not wanting to ruin it for Patrick, Artemis shared his pieces of wisdom with him, but kept it as short as possible. The boy did not need him for real, he knew it… yet, somehow he felt some sort of unknown warmth whenever Patrick pretended he couldn't figure something out without his help. Artemis didn't really know what kind of feeling it was, so he rather tried to ignore it, or even persuade himself that he was mad at the boy for trying to deceive him. He didn't need anyone's pity! But did the boy truly pity him? He didn't know.
Juliet spent her days serving the more and more annoyed Angeline (who was close to going into hysterics as no one cared to tell her what was going on with Holly), and using her little knowledge on sewing for creating three sets of clothes that looked remotely like things that people would wear in the fifth century.
Mulch was loitering around in the manor, trying to keep himself as far from the Fowl parents as possible (they need not know he was still there) and occasionally raiding the fridge and leaving chicken bones all around the kitchen, to Juliet's utter horror.
With Butler at his side, Artemis was gathering information he would need in Hungary and to pass himself for a fifth century man once he's in the Huns' camp. He kept in touch with Foaly and requested a forged passport for Patrick and Mulch, a pair of camfoils and a translator for himself. When the centaur had asked whether they'd need guns, Artemis refused it, saying it would only wake the Huns' suspicion, and after all, they weren't going back in time to fight but to get some information.
"As you wish," Foaly had said, his voice full of doubt. "Just try to explain this to old Julius too, because I'm sure he wouldn't agree with you if he knew you weren't taking any weaponry."
"Root is a soldier," Artemis had replied. "I'm a civilian. As are Patrick and Mulch. Civilians don't need weaponry."
"Nowadays they don't. In the ancient times and the Middle Ages, however…" the centaur's voice trailed off.
"I know what you mean, and if you're wondering whether I'm not a bit afraid of marching into the camp of a thousand savages unarmed, then my answer is: of course I'm afraid. But I'd like to use brains instead of weapons to fight this battle."
Foaly's face turned pale and a peculiar light shone in his eyes as he examined Artemis's face on the screen.
The young man took a deep breath. "I know my limits, Foaly. I know I'm not the same strategist I used to be, but I'm still not completely daft and I still believe that we could fare well without fighting. And if the brains we will use aren't mine but Patrick's… well, that's fine for me too."
The LEP's technical genius gave the Mud Man an appreciative smile. "All right, Fowl. I wish you the best of luck. You'll have what you need by midnight at the Tara shuttle-port. I'm sure Julius will see to it personally that you get it in time. Holly's just too important for the old elf… and well, for me too. Find out about that fairy, and save our Holly, Fowl."
Artemis returned the centaur's smile. "I'll do my best. I promise."
o o o O O O o o o
"Arty! Arty?"
Artemis heaved a sigh. He was just about to get into bed after a long and tiring day of journey-arrangements, and now even his mother had to come and bother him.
"Already asleep," he muttered, hoping that Angeline would hear it but also that she would find it weak enough to believe that she had just woken him up from his slumber.
"Artemis!" It was his father's voice this time and it sounded peremptory. "I don't care whether you're asleep or not, open up this instant!"
How Artemis hated to be ordered around! But a father's command was still a father's command, even if he was an adult already. The Fowls had always lived by traditions, and 'respect your father' was one of the most prominent Fowl family traditions. 'Respect your mother' didn't belong to Fowl-traditions though, that's why Artemis had gone behind Angeline's back so many times. Not that he hadn't gone behind his father's back too… he'd just done it more subtly.
Groaning, Artemis padded to the door and opened it. "Yea, Mother? Father?" He rubbed his eyes and faked a yawn. However, it didn't seem to persuade his parents too much. Angeline looked hysterical and Artemis the First looked downright angry. "What have I done to deserve a look like that?"
Fowl Senior walked into the room past his son, followed by his wife. "This cannot go on like this, Artemis," he said coldly.
"What?" The young man tried to look politely confused.
"This whole secretiveness," his father replied. "You, Butler and Juliet are hiding something from us. Whenever we meet you, you tell us you're in a hurry and we should leave you alone. When we don't leave you alone, you refuse to tell us what exactly you are doing. Little Patrick is still here in the manor, but we barely see him as he keeps disappearing and whenever we meet him, he looks like he's going to die of exhaustion. But of course he doesn't tell us anything either. Butler pretends his IQ has dropped to eighty and to each question we ask he replies 'don't know, sir'. Juliet just serves the meals but when we ask her what's going on, she starts talking about the latest Parisian fashion like a Barbie doll come to life. And to cap it all, that Mulk Whoever is still around, littering the corridors with chicken legs!"
"And Holly!" Angeline added in just as passionate a fashion as her husband had talked, "What – about - Holly?"
Artemis dropped himself on the bed, propping his forehead in his palms. "You're asking too much."
"Too much?" His mother snapped. "We wouldn't be asking too much if you cared to answer our questions just once! But noooo, Mr Genius decides to keep it all to himself!"
"First," Artemis looked up, an expression of barely hid fury on his face, "I'm no Mr. Genius anymore. Second: if I thought it would do you any good to tell you what's going on, I would tell you. Third: I know exactly what you're feeling. I'd hate being left out of things also, but I'm not doing it to harm you or to take revenge on you for mistreating Holly or something…" He tiredly ran his hand through his dark locks, his eyes shifting to the merry green carpet. That carpet… It had been purchased by Holly not much after she'd moved into Fowl Manor. A small smile appeared on the young man's face at the memory of the shock he'd felt upon entering his own room and finding his neat navy curtains and rugs replaced by cheery orange and lime coloured things. A woman's touch, as Holly had called it…
"Listen," he said, standing up, "I don't want to argue with you. I love you both, and the only reason why I'm not letting you in on the details is that I know it's better for you not to know." He reached out and put a hand on his mother's shoulder. "I'm trying to save Holly, Mother. Butler, Juliet, Patrick and Mulch are doing the same. Let us do it in peace. You can't help, either of you." He looked at Fowl Senior. "Once this whole thing is over, I will tell you everything, I promise. And someday you will be able to tell the story to your grandchildren of how their dad saved their mum." If I live to tell you the tale, that is, he added in thought.
Tears appeared in Angeline's eyes. "Oh, Arty… I wish I'd never been nasty to Holly… When she comes back, I'll treat her like my own daughter, just… just bring her back… and don't get yourself into any trouble."
"That's a little too much to wish for, isn't it?" Artemis Senior gave his son an impish look. "I came here with the intention of berating you, Son, and I must admit I'm still full of doubts and frustration, but I trust you. Genius or not, you're still our clever son."
Artemis smiled at the older man in an embarrassed way. He wasn't used to getting such mushy, 'father-to-son' talk from Artemis the First and didn't really know how to react.
"Well, Mother, Father, I think it's still not fair not to tell you any of the details," he replied with a sudden thought. "Patrick, Mulch and I are leaving in a few days to Hungary. It's possible I'll be too busy in the next days to have meals with you, so we might not even meet… that's why I'm telling you this now. I can't tell you more, I'm sorry."
"Hungary?" Angeline looked surprised, but her husband gently hushed her before she could ask further. If their son said he couldn't tell them more, then they shouldn't badger him any longer.
She nodded, understanding her husband's silent message. Stepping to Artemis, she gathered him into her arms. "Do as you see fit, Arty. Just take care of yourself. And of little Pat too. We love you both, very-very much."
o o o O O O o o o
"So, why aren't we going through the chute-system to Hungry?" Mulch asked, massaging his rumbling stomach.
"It's Hung-A-ry, and the reason why we aren't going there underground is that we don't want Root or any of the fairies to be involved in this," Artemis replied. "And since Patrick's little transporter isn't fully operational yet, I think it wouldn't be wise to try beaming ourselves over to Hungary."
"It's not beaming, Dad," the boy corrected him. "It's a bit like Star Trek, that's true, but not exactly. You know, it's more like… a Portkey."
"Porkey?" Mulch asked eagerly as his stomach gave another mighty rumble.
"Never mind. The point is that we can't use the chutes and we can't use my invention either," Patrick said. "But I haven't flown yet, so I'd love to try it."
"You heard the young gentleman, Juliet," Artemis said. "Please book three tickets for the Dublin-Budapest flight for tomorrow." He glanced at Patrick. "I trust the last 'watch' will be ready by then?"
"Of course." The boy waved. "It's almost ready already. Oh, and Juliet, make sure that the seats you book aren't right above the plane's wings, that would block out most of the view."
"As you wish, young master." Juliet bowed playfully and backed out of the room.
"She doesn't take you seriously," Mulch told Patrick. "Regards you as though you were her little brother."
"She treats me like that too." Artemis shrugged. "And for some reason I never minded. She's the closest thing I ever had to a sibling. Come to think of it, Patrick, once we're back in time, you will be my little brother, not my son."
"Why?"
"Because no one would think I'd fathered a child at the age of fourteen, even though people at the middle ages used to start a family much earlier than we do. Face it, I don't look like your father. Or do I?"
The boy sent him a mischievous grin. "Nope, you're too young for that, Dad. Oops, Bro. This is going to be fun."
"So, you're siblings now, but what am I? Uncle Mulch?" the dwarf asked. "And where's dinner?"
"You, old friend, are going to be our… jester," Artemis said, ignoring Diggums' question about dinner.
"Your what?" Mulch's eyes widened.
"Noblemen in the ancient times and the early middle ages found delight in keeping dwarves at their households," young Fowl explained. "Not real fairy dwarves, of course, just very short humans. You're going to be our dwarf, Mulcius."
"Mulcius? I think I've lost my appetite."
o o o O O O o o o
Dublin Airport, Friday, 15th July, 2016
"Take care. All three of you," Butler said as he and Juliet accompanied the time-travellers to the check-in area. "And don't mess too much with time, will you? God knows, it wouldn't be nice if you accidentally changed something back there and ended up changing the whole history."
"Don't worry about that, Butler." Artemis shook his head. "We don't intend to change anything. We are going to be outsiders, mere observers. We don't intervene in anything. We will only find and question that fairy woman and let Attila die in peace."
"Um… Arty?" Juliet spoke up hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Would it be too much to ask for some sort of a… souvenir from the fifth century?"
"I can get you any from any museum." Artemis winked at her. "I'm too good in that sort of thing, aren't I, Butler?"
"Yes, definitely." The manservant smiled back.
"That's not what I meant, Arty!" The woman said with a pout.
"Well, if I can put my hands on a nice Hun necklace, I'll bring it for you," Artemis replied.
"But Arty! Do I look like someone who wants a necklace?" Juliet looked scandalised. "A bow. A real Hun bow with a quiver full of Hun arrows. That would be so cool…"
Butler and Patrick exchanged an amused glance while Artemis rolled his eyes. "I can't promise you that, Juliet. But if the possibility arises, I will bring you something."
"Spiffy. Bye, Arty. Bye, Smelly. Patrick…" Before the child could have put up resistance, Juliet pulled him into a motherly hug and pressed a smacking kiss on his cheek.
"Ew," Patrick commented, wiping his cheek, but grinning stupidly at Juliet.
"Anybody home?" Artemis patted Patrick on the shoulder.
"Huh?" The boy shuddered, as though waking from the mesmer.
"Ooooo, little Pat has a cruuuush!" Mulch chuckled as Patrick backed away from the Butler siblings, still in a state of shock.
o o o O O O o o o
"I'm warning you, I don't tolerate being taken for a fool," Opal Koboi's voice boomed at Foaly through the monitor, reverberating throughout Ops Booth.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, dear Opal." The centaur said, leaning back in his pony-chair with a clearly amused expression on his face. How he enjoyed seeing this pixie uncomfortable!
"You know what I'm talking about," she hissed, sticking her face so close to her own screen that Foaly couldn't see anything but her hateful blue eyes. "I'm – talking – about - Mulch! He disappeared six days ago, saying he'd attend Fowl's wedding, and I haven't heard a word from him ever since!"
"Haven't you considered the possibility that he's got fed up with you and… escaped?" Foaly smirked nastily.
"Ha-ha, Pony Boy. You're very funny indeed. No, I'm sure Mulchie hasn't got fed up with me. He always kept saying he couldn't get enough of me, if you get what I mean…" She wriggled her blonde eyebrows at the centaur in a suggestive way. "So, I'm sure he hasn't escaped. There must be another reason for his absence, and I have a feeling you know something."
"Oh, so Miss Koboi admits she hasn't managed to hack into my system in the last few days and find out what's going on?"
Opal's face turned ruby red.
"So, you've at least tried." Foaly grinned. "I suspect you and Diggums must have found out about Fowl's wedding from the LEP system… yeah, I noticed someone hacking into it the day before the wedding, and I immediately thought of you, dear Opal."
"How flattering," she fumed.
"I didn't mean to flatter you." The centaur shook his head. "However, to prevent your little hacking activities, I added some new security features to my system. Here's a new challenge for you. Try and break into it."
"Don't think that I won't manage to," the pixie hissed.
"I don't think you won't manage to." Foaly shrugged. "I'm not underestimating you anymore, Opal. That's why I'm in the middle of developing another, even safer system security. An Opal-proof one," he added with a wink. "But back to your original question: yes, I know where Diggums is, and yes, I know what he's doing. But don't even dream of it that I will tell you. For one, it's a top secret business, two: I just love seeing you frustrated."
"Get stuffed, Pony Boy!" Miss Koboi snapped and punched the 'end call' button on her keyboard.
o o o O O O o o o
"I have no crush on Juliet, really!" Patrick reasoned as he followed his father down the aisle, looking for their seats.
"Aha, and what's up with those eyes you were making at her, eh?" Mulch's raspy voice said from behind.
"That was just… dunno. I was in a shock. That girl's mad!" Patrick said as his father stopped by a pair of seats. "Great, it's not over the wings. May I sit by the window, Da… Artemis?"
"Fine by me. I've flown more times than I could count." Artemis shrugged as the boy eagerly dropped himself into the seat by the window. Mulch took a seat right behind Patrick's.
"Hey, Arty, have you seen this?" The dwarf waved a brochure in front of the Irishman's eyes over the back of his seat.
"Yes." Young Fowl sighed. "It's just a piece of paper full of instructions – where you can find the emergency exit and things like that."
"That's now what I meant," Mulch replied. "It says MALÉV on it. MALév… Heh, I hope it's not MALfunctioning…"
"Very funny, Mulch. Just for your information, it's short for Magyar Légiközlekedési Vállalat – Hungarian Airlines."
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. Welcome on our Dublin-Budapest flight. The journey will take approximately three hours. Please fasten your seatbelts, we're taking off. Have a pleasant journey."
Artemis was amused to see the sudden excitement on Patrick's features. As much as the seat belts allowed him, the boy leaned forward and practically pressed his nose to the windowpane, his eyes drinking in the sights.
"Woah," he breathed after a few minutes. "That's just… cool. The fields look like a patchwork quilt! And that river, it's just like a silver snake! Beauttttifulllll! D'you see that, Dad?" He turned back from the window, an expression of rapture on his face. Artemis had never seen the boy so… infantile? Yet, he'd never seen his son so alive either. Well, genius or not, aloof or not, Patrick was still a child. Better not forget it, Artemis reminded himself. As Patrick turned back to the window, Artemis allowed himself a small smile. The boy was behaving in a way he would never have behaved like at this age. Still, somehow he didn't mind his son having a childhood – as much as a child prodigy like him could have a real childhood. Come to think of it, Patrick was not just 'half-Artemis' in regard to his genes, he was 'half-Holly' as well, and Artemis had no problem imagining Holly as a fun-loving, vivacious teen. Sometimes she still behaved like that…
Minutes passed and only then did Patrick slump back into his chair and take his eyes off the window when they'd flown into a cloud and nothing could be seen outside but whitish greyness.
"Say, Dad, oops, Artemis, what're the Hungarians like? I haven't exactly studied them…"
"I have," his father replied. "While you were working on the 'watches'."
"Oh. And? What are they like?"
"Hungry, I suppose," Mulch chimed in from behind.
Artemis rolled his eyes at Patrick. "Typical Mulch for you, always thinking with his stomach. But no, Mulch, Hungary has nothing to do with 'hungry', even though people keep misspelling the name of that country. Certainly the country's name comes from the word 'Hun'. Attila and his Huns had settled down there, after all… some say the Hungarians are related to the Huns and that right after Attila's death a few Huns were sent back to their original home to Asia to alert the Hungarians to come and claim Attila's abandoned land as their own, based on their relation to the Huns. Then again, some say the Hungarians aren't in the least related to the Huns. No one so far has managed to prove or refute it. There's a theory saying that the Hungarians came into the Carpathian basin only a few decades after Attila's death, which, according to history books is impossible, as Attila died in 453 A. D. and the Hungarians entered their current home in 896. However, there's that theory about the great calendar forgery…"
"Calendar forgery?" Patrick's eyes widened. "What the heck?"
"According to the supporters of this theory, it was the idea of the Catholic Church to add about three hundred years to their calendar. Pope Gregory XIII in the sixteenth century made his calendar reform already knowing about the forgery. The reformers put about three hundred years into history, and put it into the early middle ages – three hundred years that possibly never existed. If this is true, then Charlemagne was merely made-up and we're practically living in the eighteenth century, not the twenty-first."
"But why would the Church or anyone want to forge history?" Patrick wondered.
"Some say it was at least partly because of the Hungarians," Artemis replied. "They came into the Carpathian basin, conquered the nations who lived around and built a flourishing country. Too flourishing for the Western Europeans' taste. They shared the view that whoever ruled the Carpathian basin, ruled whole Europe. So they decided to take the greatness away from the Hungarians and create a glorious past for themselves. They put over three hundred years between Attila's Huns' time and the Hungarians' arrival to Europe, thus sort of separating the two nations from each other. If the Hungarians arrived to Europe centuries after Attila died, then they couldn't have been related to the great Hun king." Artemis shrugged. "No idea whether anything's true about this, but it's definitely an interesting theory."
"I'd rather say it's spooky," Mulch commented. "Back to Pat's original question, what are the Hungarians like? I've only heard about their goulash so far…"
"Well, as far as I know, they are friendly but pessimistic. But with a history-background like theirs, it's understandable… And they're exceptionally creative folks. The main reason for this is that they live in a transition area. So many nations have mixed in the area of today's Hungary that the Hungarians' genes simply couldn't degenerate - on the contrary. No wonder that they gave an awful lot of Nobel prize winners to the world. Very creative people, really. For example, they discovered vitamin C, they invented the Biro pen, the Rubic cube, not to mention that John Neumann – also a Hungarian – invented the computer. A Hungarian company called Graphisoft is the best in three dimensional modelling… I used their ArchiCAD for designing the Dublin Opera house."
"You used a program developed by someone else?" Patrick raised an eyebrow at his father.
Artemis shook his head with an indulgent smile. "Being a genius doesn't mean you can't use anyone's help, Son. It means you know exactly whose help to use and how."
Patrick nodded silently, turning away from Artemis, pretending to be interested in the endless blue sky over the clouds.
His father berating him, however subtly? That was something new. No one, absolutely no one had ever dared question his expertise and genius in any area before… Well, if there was a person who had any right to lecture him, then it was his father. Perhaps he could even learn something from Artemis the Second… who knows?
However, the Fowl in Patrick was proud enough to feel hurt by the slightly condescending manner in which Artemis had talked him to. Or was it condescending? Wasn't it just merely fatherly? The boy couldn't tell… Then again, up till three months earlier, he had never had a father, how could he know what it was like, then? He could easily be misjudging his father's gestures and his own feelings as well.
The warm-hearted Short in him tried to persuade himself that Artemis had merely reminded him he wasn't old enough yet to be wise, but his Fowl-pride made him withdraw into an invisible cocoon and close his father out for the rest of the journey.
Not even noticing the boy's sudden withdrawal, Artemis buried himself into an Irish Times he had bought at the airport, and Mulch was barely audibly munching on a package of peanuts.
Patrick didn't know how much time had passed until the captain's voice spoke up again: "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts, we're landing."
As though electrified, the boy pressed his nose to the window once more. The first thing he saw once they'd dropped under the clouds was a patchwork-kilt-like landscape again. Minutes passed, and the patchwork dissolved into tiny gardens, then the gardens were quickly replaced by a sea of downtown houses.
"Nézd, anya, ott az országház!" shouted a child in one of the foremost seats.
Patrick, blessed with the ability of interpreting all languages, had no difficulty understanding that the child has just said 'look mum, there's the parliament!', in Hungarian.
And indeed, as he looked down, he could already see the greyish brown ribbon of the river Danube with the majestic, neo-gothic building of the Hungarian Parliament on its bank. A bit further on the other bank on the hillside stood the Palace of Buda, whose copper-covered dome had long turned green.
"Nice little city, eh?" Mulch whistled.
"Yeah, very nice." The boy nodded eagerly, never taking his eyes off the view outside until they landed on Ferihegy 2.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Budapest, Hungary."
o o o O O O o o o
A/N2: I'm sure you're wondering about the calendar forgery. Well, I didn't make it up, it's a theory made up by a few German historians who wrote books on this topic. I don't know the books' titles in English, only the original, German ones. In case you're interested:
Heribert Illig - Klaus Weissberger: Probleme der ungarischen Frühgeschichte (I could translate it as 'Problems with the early history of Hungary)
Uwe Topper: Erfundene Geschichte ('Made-up history')
Another thing you might find interesting: Emese's family name, 'Hunfalvy' means 'someone from the Hun village'. I used to go to a high school named after a guy called János Hunfalvy. I hated that school, so I decided to give Emese (who's obviously a not very nice character) this name.
And now: be so kind and leave a review!