The Eye of Zoltar by Jasper Fforde Page A

aircraft lumber almost impossibly into the sky with its tiny wings, then headed towards Zambini Towers.
    ‘The Eye of Zoltar?’ said Tiger when I’d finished relating what Shandar had said. ‘What on earth’s that?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. The person to consult is someone with a clearer idea of what the future might bring.’
    ‘I’m no clairvoyant,’ said Tiger, ‘but I think I know who you mean.’

The Remarkable Kevin Zipp
    The Remarkable Kevin Zipp was one of Kazam’s most accomplished clairvoyants. When we walked back into the offices at Kazam he was checking out baby futures. Not in a stocks and shares kind of way, obviously, but what a baby’s life had in store for them. It was a good way to earn ready cash, as Kazam was constantly short of money. Two mothers had their tots with them, and Kevin was checking each by holding on to their left foot for a moment.
    ‘If she wants to go out with someone named Geoff when she’s sixteen,’ he said as the first mother stared at him anxiously, ‘try to get her to go out with Nigel instead.’
    ‘There’s a problem with Geoff?’
    ‘No, there’s a problem with Nigel. Ban Geoff from her life and he’ll become unbelievably attractive and she’ll forget all about Nigel, and believe me, she needs to. Nigel is big trouble.’
    ‘How big?’
    ‘
Really
big.’
    ‘Okay. Anything else?’
    ‘Not really – although you might consider joining the National Trust and holidaying in Wales. It’s quite nice, I’m told, and not always raining.’
    ‘Oh. Well, thank you very much,’ said the mother. She handed Kevin a ten-moolah note and moved off. The second mother presented her baby to Kevin, who once again held the baby’s foot. He closed his eyes and rocked slowly in his chair for a moment.
    ‘This is preposterous,’ said the Princess. ‘I’ve never seen a more ridiculous load of mumbo-jumbo in my entire life!’
    ‘You’re young yet,’ I said, ‘lots of time to see some gold-standard mumbo-jumbo, and quite frankly, this is the place to see it.’
    ‘Concert pianist,’ Kevin murmured thoughtfully, still holding the baby’s foot, ‘and make sure he likes boiled cabbage, tasteless stew and runny porridge.’
    ‘He’ll be a pianist?’ asked the mother excitedly.
    ‘No, he’s going to murder one – aged twenty-six – so better get him used to prison food from an early age … hence the boiled cabbage.’
    The mother glared at him, slapped the money on the table, and left the room. Kevin looked confused.
    ‘Did I say something wrong?’
    ‘Perhaps you should temper the bad news with good,’ I suggested.
    ‘I couldn’t tell them the
really
bad news,’ he replied. ‘The “concert pianist” thing was their
minority
timeline; their
senior
timeline – the most likely one – has them both not lasting the week. Oh, before I forget: this came in today.’
    He handed me a letter. It was postmarked from Cambrianopolis, the capital city of the Cambrian Empire, and looked official.
    ‘Oh dear,’ I said as I read the letter. ‘Once Magnificent Boo’s been arrested for “illegal importation of a Tralfamosaur”.’
    ‘That’s a trumped-up charge,’ said Tiger. ‘The Cambrian Empire has herds and herds of the things – people pay good money to hunt them, for goodness’ sake.’
    ‘There’s a reason,’ I added. ‘She’s been transferred to Emperor Tharv’s State-Owned Ransom Clearance House, ready for negotiations.’
    ‘The Cambrian Empire are
still
kidnapping people?’ said Tiger. ‘When are they going to enter the twenty-first century?’
    ‘I think they have to consider entering the fifteenth century first,’ said Kevin.
    Traditionally, it was princes and kings and knights and stuff that were ransomed as you could get a lot for them, but pretty much anyone was fair game in the Cambrian Empire. If you weren’t royal, the release fees could actually be fairly modest – some people cost less to release than a parking clamp, which