18 Conte's Heir

Chapter 18 Conte's Heir Conte's heir?' said Peanut. 'What do you mean?' 'Ever since we first met in that cosy old bunker,' said Mrs M, 'and you showed me Pencil Number One, Little Tail as you call it, I've wondered how it came to be in your father's possession. The world's first pencil, hand-crafted by the great Nicolas-Jacques Conté himself. An almost mythological object. And you found it at the bottom of a box full of Post-it notes. Just incredible.' 'It really is,' agreed her husband. 'Children, you do realise that this pencil is legendary in Chroma, don't you? And, as such, there have always been lots of stories associated with it. Fairy tales, I suppose you'd call them.' 'My parents would tell me them at bedtime,' said Mrs M,

her cheeks reddening. 'One night, the pencil might turn into a sword used to fight dragons. The next, a powerful oar to row across vast oceans. Then, it would be a magic wand to battle wizards A pencil is a wand,' said Peanut. Any pencil. I've always thought that. Every single one has magic inside it.' 'But this one, as you know, has actual magic inside it. And a very special kind of magic too,' said Mrs M. 'Nobody was ever really sure what form that magic took, hence all the wildly varying stories, but now we know.' She was smiling and shaking her head in disbelief. 'Now we actually know. 'It was also said,' added Mr M, 'that when Conté himself wielded the pencil, it became even more powerful. It unleashed a creative force so potent that it could paint the heavens with rainbows and fill the oceans with colour. One of my favourite stories tells how Conté painted the entire Spire just by pointing Pencil Number One at it. Ribbons and ribbons of beautiful kaleidoscopic colour just poured from the tip, apparently. ' Oh, how I wish you children could have seen the tower before it was whitewashed by You Know Who,' said Mrs M. 'It was the most beautiful sight.' 'Legend has it,' said Mr M, 'that as the pencil was handed down from generation to generation, Conté's heirs inherited his power. And that when they came of age and used Little Tail, incredible things would also happen.

'Hang on! Why has it passed into legend?' said Rockwell. 'Surely there is some evidence of this stuff happening?' 'Not really. In fact there is no official record of the pencil's existence at all. Also, back in Conté's day, family records tended to be much sketchier than they are now, and the truth is that over the centuries we have lost track of his descendants.' 'Which is why we're so curious to know how it came to be in your dad's possession,' said Mrs M. 'It could very well be that he is distantly related to Conté. Which could potentially make him...' 'Conté's heir,' said Peanut. 'We think White might have realised that, once he saw you with the pencil,' said Mrs M. And one thing's for sure. He will not want your dad getting hold of it. Just in case our suspicions are correct. 'Too right!' said Mr M. 'If your dad is Conté's heir, and the legends are to be believed, his wielding of Pencil Number One could undo all of White's efforts to destroy Chroma in one fell swoop!' GMRS MARKMAKER! MR MARKMAKER!' A heavily muscled man, with long blond hair, wearing a Viking helmet and a huge spiky shoulder guard, suddenly burst into the Map Room. ' THE PRIMARY IS ON THE MOVE!'

'Oh! Right!' said Mr M. 'Er. thank you, Agent Odin the Stormbreaker. This is it! Quick! Let's go, Millicent. Peanut, Rockwell, Little-Bit, sit tight. We will be back as soon as we can. Whatever you do, don't leave the Bunker! We need to keep you safe. Doodle?' He looked at the dog still sitting on Little-Bit's lap. 'You're in charge, OK?' Doodle woofed his acknowledgement and whacked his tail. 'See you soon, dears,' said Mrs M, standing up and following her husband as he hurried out of the room. 'So sorry about this. Urgent Resistance business!' Once the sound of footsteps running up the stairs had died down, Peanut spoke to the others. Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?' 'That depends,' said Rockwell. Are you thinking of staying exactly where we are, having another cup of tea and maybe playing a nice game of I-Spy?' 'No,' said Peanut as she hid her sports bag under the table. 'I'm thinking that we follow Mr and Mrs M. I want to see what's going on. The Resistance might need our help.' 'In that case, I'm not thinking what you're thinking,' said Rockwell. 'You heard what they said, it's not safe for us out there.' 'Rocky, don't be such a baby,' said a gleeful Little-Bit. 'Where's your sense of adventure?'