Chapters (36)
- The Last Dragonslayer
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Practical Magic
- Tiger Prawns
- Zambini Towers
- About the Mystical Arts
- The Magiclysm
- Mother Zenobia
- The Dragon Question
- Patrick and the Childcatcher
- Norton and Villiers
- Mutiny
- William of Anorak
- Brian Spalding – Last Dragonslayer
- The Dragonlands
- Maltcassion
- Gordon van Gordon
- The Truth about Mr Zambini
- Big Magic
- His Majesty King Snodd IV
- Yogi Baird
- Foundling Trouble
- The Duke of Brecon
- Dragon Attack
- Mr Hawker
- Maltcassion again
- Sir Matt Grifflon
- Escape from Zambini Towers
- Back to the Dragonlands
- Noon
- Anger
- The New Order
- The End of the Story
- About the Author
- Also by Jasper Fforde
‘Indeed. Back rent, back electricity bills, gas bills, rates, you name it. Three hundred years’ worth.’
‘I’ve only been here two days.’
Hawker – and the King’s advisers, presumably – had already thought of that.
‘As Dragonslayer you are legally responsible for yourself and the previous members of your calling. The Kingdom has been generous for many years, but feels now that circumstances have changed.’
He looked at me with a smile.
‘You owe us 97,482 moolah, and forty-three pence.’
I patted my pockets, drew out some change and handed it to the debt collector, who wasn’t laughing.
‘Now how much do I owe you?’
‘I think you fail to appreciate the seriousness of the situation, Miss Strange. I have a warrant for your arrest if you do not pay the monies owed. Failure to pay will result in you being jailed for debt.’
He obviously meant it. I could only assume that the King thought a brief stay in jail would make me more compliant. But I wasn’t about to be arrested just like that. I asked Mr Hawker to wait and called Gordon to fetch the accounts. Brian Spalding had said we had funds available in the bank.
‘How long do I have to pay?’
The debt collector smiled and one of his heavies started cracking his knuckles.
‘We’re not totally devoid of a sense of fair play,’ replied Hawker with a gloat. ‘Ten minutes.’
‘Well?’ I said to Gordon, who had returned with the bank statements.
‘Not too good, ma’am,’ he said. ‘It seems we have a fraction under two hundred moolah.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Hawker. ‘Officers, arrest her.’
The policemen stepped forward but I raised a hand.
‘Wait!’
They stopped.
‘I thought you said I had ten minutes?’
Hawker gave a rare smile and checked his watch.
‘Think you can raise a hundred thousand in, let’s see . . . eight minutes?’
I thought quickly.
‘Well,’ I replied, ‘actually, I rather think I can.’
Maltcassion again
Maltcassion again
An hour later I was heading off to the Dragonlands again, the Rolls-Royce bedecked with Fizzi-Pop stickers. Painted on the door was a big sign saying:
Dragonslayer
Personally sponsored by
Fizzi-Pop, Inc.
The Drink of Champions