The Dark Lord of Derkholm
A hilarious adventure about a fantasy world in danger of destruction from that most vile of threats… tourism .Winner of the Mythopoeic Fantasy Award for Children’s Literature in 1999.A humorous fantasy from Diana Wynne Jones. In a world next door to ours, the tourist industry is devastating the population by its desire to experience all the fantasy clichés - Dark Lords, impoverished villages, dragons etc.The Head of the University resolves to shut the tours down; the only problem being the ruthless tour-master - and his all-powerful demons. To save them all, the incompetent wizard Derk is appointed as Dark Lord in the hope that he will ruin the tours, and sure enough proceeds to fail at everything due to his general uselessness. But can failing at everything lead to a win this time?
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2013
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Copyright © Diana Wynne Jones 1998
Cover artwork © Duncan Smith.
Design by James Fraser
Diana Wynne Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007507573
Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007507597
Version: 2017-01-30
To Robin McKinley
Contents
“I was only trying to say—” a king, an emperor and several wizards began.
“At once,” said Querida, “or the next person to speak spends the rest of his life as a snake!”
This shut most of the University Emergency Committee up. Querida was the most powerful wizard in the world and she had a special feeling for snakes. She looked like a snake herself, small and glossy-skinned and greenish, and very, very old. Nobody doubted she meant what she said. But two people went on talking anyway. Gloomy King Luther murmured from the end of the table, “Being a snake might be a relief.” And when Querida’s eyes darted round at him, he stared glumly back, daring her to do it.
And Wizard Barnabas, who was Vice-Chancellor of University, simply went on talking “… trying to say, Querida, that you don’t understand what it’s like. You’re a woman. You only have to be the Glamorous Enchantress. Mr Chesney won’t let women do the Dark Lord.” Querida’s eyes snapped round at him with no effect at all. Barnabas gave her a cheerful smile and puffed a little. His face seemed designed for good humour. His hair and beard romped round his face in grey curls. He looked into Querida’s pouched eyes with his blue, bloodshot ones and added, “We’re all worn out, the lot of us.”
“Hear, hear!” a number of people round the table muttered cautiously.
“I know that!” Querida snapped. “And if you’d listen, instead of all complaining at once, you’d hear me saying that I’ve called this meeting to discuss how to put a stop to Mr Chesney’s Pilgrim Parties for good.”
This produced an astonished silence.
A bitter little smile put folds in Querida’s cheeks. “Yes,” she said. “I’m well aware that you elected me High Chancellor because you thought I was the only person ruthless enough to oppose Mr Chesney and that you’ve all been very disappointed that I didn’t immediately leap at his throat. I have, of course, been studying the situation. It is not easy to plan a campaign against a man who lives in another world and organises his tours from there.” Her small green-white hands moved to the piles of paper, bark and parchment in front of her and she began stacking them in new heaps with little dry rustling movements. “But it is clear to me,” she said, “that things have gone from bad, to intolerable, to crisis point and that something must be done. Here I have forty-six petitions from all the male wizards attached to the University and twenty-two from other male magic users, each pleading chronic overwork. This pile is three letters signed by over a hundred female wizards, who claim they are being denied equal rights. They are accurate. Mr Chesney does not think females can be wizards.” Her hands moved on to a mighty stack of parchments with large red seals dangling off them. “This,” she said, “is from the kings. Every monarch in the world has written to me at least once protesting at what the tours do to their kingdoms. It is probably only necessary to quote from one. King Luther, perhaps you would care to give us the gist of the letter I receive from you once a month?”
“Yes, I would,” said King Luther. He leant forward and gripped the table with powerful blue-knuckled hands. “My kingdom is being ravaged,” he said. “I have been selected as Evil King fifteen times in the last twenty years, with the result that I have a tour through once a week, invading my court and trying to kill me or my courtiers. My wife has left me and taken the children with her for safety. The towns and countryside are being devastated. If the army of the Dark Lord doesn’t march through and sack my city, then the Forces of Good do it next time. I admit I’m being paid quite well for this, but the money I earn is so urgently needed to repair the capital for the next Pilgrim Party that there is almost none to spare for helping the farmers. They grow hardly anything these days. You must be aware, High Chancellor—”
