No1 stared into his captor's eyes. 'I said, I want to talk to Qweffor.' Abbot heard him that time, because the voice wasn't No1's. It was a voice of pure magic, layered with undeniable power. Abbot blinked. 'I'll… eh… see if he's in.' It was too late for compliance: No1 wasn't about to rein in his power now. He sent a magical probe into Abbot's brain via the horns. The horns glowed bright blue and then began shedding large brittle flakes. 'Careful with the horns,' said Abbot blearily, then his eyes rolled back in his head. 'The ladies love the horns.' No1 rooted round in Abbot's head for a while until he found Qweffor sleeping in a dark corner, in a place scientists would call the limbic system. The problem, realized No1, is that there is only room in every head for one consciousness. Abbot needs to go somewhere else. And so, with this instinctive knowledge and absolutely no expertise, No1 fed Qweffor's consciousness until it expanded, occupying the entire brain. It was not a perfect fit, and poor Qweffor would suffer from twitches and sudden loss of bowel control at public functions, a syndrome which would become known as Abbot's Revenge. But at least he was in control of a body, most of the time. After several years and three hearings, fairy warlocks would manage to rehouse Abbot's consciousness in a lower life form. A guinea pig, to be precise. The guinea pig's own consciousness was soon subjugated by Abbot's. Warlock interns would often amuse themselves by throwing tiny swords into the pig's pen, and crack up watching the little piggy trying to pick them up.
( Eoin Colfer )
[ The Lost Colony ]
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