by Max Anthony
By now Skulks had found the opportunity to bring Spout abreast of the situation in a whispered conversation in her room earlier, away from any of the spying holes.
“We can’t stay here for long,” he’d told her. “Meugh’s been killed and a demon lives in his skin. We can’t trust it one little bit – it’ll play the game till it gets bored and then it’ll have us all killed.” Spout had looked disturbed at this, as well she might.
“A demon? That would explain his strange behaviour. Tan, can you kill it?” she’d asked, sweeping aside any pretence of international relations.
“I don’t know. It’s not a minor demon and it’s got the Warp and Weft trapped somewhere in the palace. I’ll stand a much better chance if I can free them.”
“When can you get to them?”
“I’ll see if I can find them tonight. With all these guards patrolling the palace, you’ll need to be ready to leave immediately in case he decides to have us murdered on a whim. Captain Honey will know when the time is right to leave. Either way, we should leave tomorrow with the tide.”
“I’ll get word to Captain Winkle to have the ship readied. All hush-hush of course.” She’d raised a half-smile at this.
“I think Grindy’s going to make a good ally if we can help her. She’s another one like Honey.”
“Did you find any money for her?”
Skulks had tried to look innocent, which was his default expression when anyone asked him about his crimes. “A few thousand Scroats I found lying about. And a golden foot that came off in my hand when I was admiring it.”
“Can you get her any more?”
“As Hardened’s premier hotleaf merchant, I am sure that my presence on the docks would not be deemed unusual, for I will need to inspect the facilities. There are rich former smugglers living in that area with whom I would be wise to speak, in order to discuss tides, storage facilities and so forth.”
“I see,” Spout had said. “Try and make sure you’re not caught, Tan. And be back by early evening, for we are seeing King Meugh again in order to discuss our hotleaf imports over supper.”
So it was that late morning, Tan Skulks, Wielder and Hardened’s premier hotleaf merchant was seen by several of the King’s Ears. With him was his faithful and elderly assistant, Clerk Ferty Slipper, who had with him a record-book and writing stick, with which he took copious notes. Skulks made his way slowly along the dockside, inspecting the warehouses from a distance and occasionally making conversation with the security men or overseers assigned to guard them. It was known that hotleaf didn’t take well to being stored in a warm, salty environment, so it seemed perfectly reasonable for a merchant to look for the best location to store his valuable wares. If any of the King’s Ears noticed that Skulks lingered excessively in front of the houses of known rich men, then none of them considered it unusual. After all, rich merchants liked to know other rich merchants, giving them ample opportunity to meet for dinner and bore the pants off the other guests by talking about shipments, duties and profit margins.
After two hours of inspection, one of the King’s Ears noted that Clerk Ferty Slipper was struggling with the pace, doubtless due to his age. Seeing his assistant fighting the burden of years, Skulks was watched clapping him heartily on the shoulder and leading him back towards the palace. At the palace, it was recorded that only Clerk Slipper returned, though he was overheard saying that Tan Skulks had stayed out to sample a few of the local ales and purchase himself a spot of lunch, whereupon Heathen Spout shook her head as if this behaviour wasn’t quite welcome, but was expected and tolerated.
As it happens, Tan Skulks wasn’t sampling any of the local ales, though he would have liked to. He was however, purchasing himself a spot of lunch. His confrontation with the mage guarding Lula Grindy had tested him sorely and excessive use of his Wielder powers always left him hungry. Before the unsuccessful attempt to hang Lula Grindy, Skulks had swept through the palace kitchens like a swarm of locusts, hands a-blur as they scooped high-calorie items into his mouth and leaving the staff agape at his capacity. Even so, his belly was rattling alarmingly now as it begged his indulgence. Indulge it he did, with two large plates of boneless street kippers, accompanied by eggs and chopped, buttered toast.
“How’s business?” Skulks asked the lady at the kipper-stall as he stuffed fish and eggs into his mouth.
“Not too bad, you know? Everyone loves kippers. Even with all these new sausage vendors popping up.” She rolled her eyes as if the notion of these artery-clogging salty offal hawkers was anathema to her.
“A good kipper warms the soul,” said Skulks.
“And the wood smoke warms the body,” said she, completing the old saying.
Looking left and right as if just noticing something, Skulks asked, “What’re all these guards doing around the docks?” In truth there was little sign of them as he spoke, but he was hoping to prompt her into volunteering information.
“The guards? Oh, they look after the King’s tax collectors. They’ve been coming and going all the time recently, what with these new taxes and everything. Another egg-and-kipper lot? Three Scroats please, love.”
As Skulks tucked into his third egg-and-kipper lot he said, “Some of the rich families must be paying the King well.” He noticed how her face twisted momentarily.
“I think King Meugh will have them bankrupt before long. It’s taken some of these families two hundred years to earn their money and the King will have them cleaned out in under a year! I don’t know why he doesn’t just take it all off them now!”
Knowing that this would be King Meugh’s next step, Skulks said, “Are any of these old families getting fewer visits from the King’s taxmen than other families?”
The kipper-lady furrowed her brow, not quite suspicious at the direction of the conversation, but slightly puzzled by it.
“A few of my customers have said that the Brewks family is in the King’s pocket. And the Popples. I have no idea why. Maybe they’re the King’s friends or something.”
Still munching happily, Skulks thanked the lady for her fine-quality and reasonably-priced kippers and made his way along. He knew where both the Brewks and the Popples lived and even if they weren’t in the King’s pocket he was going to burgle their houses and worry about the morals later.
Though burglary in daylight had its disadvantages, specifically that people were more likely to be awake and it was harder for Skulks to remain unseen, there were also advantages in that there were often fewer people in a house that Skulks wanted to steal from.
As he entered House Brewks by a rear window, Skulks paused to listen. The only sound he could make out was a general, unfocused noise from the street outside. Not that a lack of noise guaranteed a lack of occupants, but it generally gave Skulks an idea of what to expect. Suddenly there was a noise! A noise that was unmistakably that of chewing, as hard teeth hungrily churned something unknown into a paste suitable for swallowing. Finishing the slice of pie that he’d taken from a bench, Skulks wiped his fingers on his tunic and slipped out of the kitchen.
Having checked for hidden bottoms in ale casks, he decided to search upstairs first. House Brewks was fairly pretty from the outside, being a hefty detached house, though with weeds growing up between the patio slabs. Inside it was freshly-painted, though there was too much green for Skulks’ taste, as if the owner had seen it in a catalogue and decided to copy it precisely.
The green continued to pervade the walls even upstairs, and Skulks found it was preoccupying him. Consequently, the single person in the house was able to surprise him easily and may even have overcome him, had they been belligerent and more than eight years old.
“What are you doing, mister?” asked a voice. Skulks spun around to see a boy standing there, looking at him with doleful eyes, but no apparent alarm. Aware that children could be more than they appeared, Skulks used his Wielding to look carefully over this one in order to detect any traps, concealments, demonic possessions, or other
tricks about which he should know. There were none; the child appeared to be just a child.
“Hello, young man,” said Skulks, not answering the question. Though he had never fathered children, he was comfortable in their presence and generally they liked him, perhaps because they realised that in many ways he was hardly more mature than they.
“Father won’t be pleased to find you here. Nor will mother, though she’s gone off to the tavern again.”
“Have they left you here all by yourself?” asked Skulks.
“I’m left here by myself every day. Father’s too busy with his work and mother always smells of wine, even when she’s here.”
“Don’t you have any toys to play with?”
“I’m bored with all my toys. I haven’t had any new toys for ages!”
“Haven’t you got any friends?” asked Skulks, by now feeling sorry for the young lad.
“No. I’m not allowed friends. Father says friends make you weak. All I want is someone to play with.”
“Your mother and father don’t sound like they’re very nice people,” said Skulks, now glad that he was going to thoroughly loot their house.
“No they aren’t!” said the young boy, his lower lip trembling as tears welled up in his eyes.
Skulks crouched down next to him.
“Have you ever met Aunty Lula?” asked Skulks. The boy shook his head.
“Aunty Lula is a dear, sweet lady, who looks after all the good boys and girls whose parents don’t love them or look after them. She lives in a lovely house full of toys and she has lots of friends. Would you like me to take you to Aunty Lula?”
The boy looked uncertain. “I-I-I don’t know. Would I see mother and father again?”
“You could if you wanted to. But Aunty Lula can look after you for a while until you decide what you want to do.”
“Can I see Aunty Lula?”
“Aunty Lula has asked me to take care of some important business for her, but I can take you to see her straight after. Would you like that?”
The boy nodded, almost breaking Skulks’ heart with how easily he gave up his parents.
“Firstly, I need to find your father’s office because Aunty Lula has told me I need to take something from there, as a lesson to remind him to look after his children. Can you show me where it is?”
“It’s just upstairs. I think he keeps all of his important stuff in the wall behind the picture.”
“Good lad,” Skulks told him. “I’m Tan Skulks. Aunty Lula’s very best friend. What’s your name?”
“Tullis Brewks.”
“Can you show me where your father keeps his important stuff, Tullis?”
“It’s this way, Mr Skulks.”
Skulks followed the lad and sure enough, he led him into what appeared to be an office containing all of the usual paraphernalia one might see in an office, that being a desk, a chair and a bookcase full of books which didn’t look like they’d ever been opened. Still, the presence of books marked Brewks as being a rich man, for they were still a rarity here in Casks.
“I think I’ve seen father put things behind that picture over there,” said Tullis, pointing to a pleasant pastoral scene upon one wall. “He always shouts at me when I try to talk to him when he’s looking in the cupboard behind it.”
Skulks removed the painting and looked at the safety-box door in the wall. It was about two-feet square, designed to withstand assault by ten hammer-wielding thieves for two weeks as well as shrug off three days of concentrated wizardry. Hardly noticing that the safe was locked, Skulks opened the door and started rifling through the contents.
“Could you fetch me a laundry bag?” he asked. “On second thoughts, make it two laundry bags.”
Ten minutes later, Skulks grunted as he made his way down the stairs with what was possibly one of his best ever hauls. Certainly in his top twenty, he thought; maybe even his top ten. In the end he’d needed four stout laundry bags to contain the wealth of the Brewks family. Starting tomorrow, Mother Brewks would need to open a tab at The Gallant Meugh rather than paying up front.
Having led his young charge out of the back window through which he’d entered, Tan Skulks followed a series of narrow back lanes until he came close to Lula Grindy’s safe house. Though he’d passed three of the King’s Ears in order to get here, none had thought it unusual to see a laundry man walk by with his young son, though the laundry man had prominent veins across his forehead as if he were carrying an especially weighty batch of clothing. Grindy’s house was on a quiet street so there were no Ears here and Skulks let himself in by the back door only through force of habit.
“This is Aunty Lula’s house,” said Skulks. “She might look surprised, but it’s because she’s not expecting us.” He smiled at Tullis, who smiled uncertainly back.
Surprise wasn’t quite an adequate word to describe Aunty Lula’s reaction when they found her in the sitting room, deep in conversation with another woman and a man.
“Aunty Lula?” said Skulks. “Might we speak alone?”
Seeing the young Tullis with Skulks, Lula Grindy ushered her company from the room, though she had no idea what nonsense it was that Skulks was about to drop upon her.
“Aunty Lula, meet Tullis Brewks, your new nephew.”
“Hullo Aunty Lula,” said the boy. “I need a wee.”
With Tullis sent off to the toilet, Skulks quickly explained the situation. Lula Grindy was mortified to find herself an aunty, for she was more at home commanding armies or plotting subterfuge against the King. However, she was a good woman of Casks and saw that Skulks had acted in the best interests of the boy. In addition to this, Skulks had returned with a further eighty-seven thousand Scroats as well as a number of other heavy, valuable items that would fetch a good price once she found a suitable buyer. In fact, Skulks had single-handedly given her enough coins to begin and maintain a campaign of harassment against King Meugh and at the same time had removed a source of wealth that would have eventually found its way into the King’s coffers.
With the boy returned from his wee, Skulks patted him on the head and told him that Aunty Lula would be looking after him now and that she was sending Skulks out immediately to buy some new toys. As it happens, Skulks was heading out immediately, though it was with a view to visiting the Popples and stealing from them in a similarly unrestrained fashion to that in which he had stolen from the Brewks. Skulks had little time, for Grindy was planning to relocate to the town of Trags which was midway between Casks and Burden, where she hoped to begin a popular rebellion against King Meugh. Trags had always been difficult for Meugh to control and Grindy was confident she’d be able to form an army there.
By now, Skulks was thoroughly enjoying these international relations between Hardened and Casks, feeling himself to be an important part of a greater whole. He’d been burned by a wizard, attacked by baboons, broken into a prison, had a large stone block dropped on his recently-vacated seat, avoided being poisoned by one-hundred-and-one year eggs, all while being chased by demons, but these little details didn’t dampen his enthusiastic spirit.
The afternoon had progressed by the time he’d broken into the Popples’ house, letting himself in through a little-used service entrance. Into his head, Spout popped, to issue him with another of her timely warnings.
“Don’t be late for dinner tonight, Tan. We might need you to protect us. And good work on the stealing.”
Though this last sentence was entirely out of character for Heathen Spout, in fact so entirely out of character that she’d never have uttered it outside of Skulks’ imagination, he nodded happily to himself at her affirmation of his hard day’s thieving.
Even though the hour was getting on, Skulks knew that a good burglary took time and if one rushed things, then one ran the risk of getting caught or simply overlooking some of the valuables. Thus it was that he crept from the laundry room and into the kitchen, pulling the shadows closely around him to hide from intruding eyes. In the kitchen
an elderly gentleman was washing plates. He was wearing the clothes of a servant and had an air of the downtrodden as he stared out of the window at a boundary wall. Skulks passed him without being detected and used the open door to make his way into a connecting corridor, from which exited several doors to rooms as predictable as the house. There was a living room with an old woman who was knitting. There was a dining room containing a curious dog. It knew Skulks was there, or at least it thought it knew, for Skulks was also able to mask his scent as well as his visibility.
Leaving the dog nuzzling its balls, Skulks went upstairs, passing a young woman as he went. From her haughty manner, he took her to be one of the Popples, rather than a servant. As she went by Skulks removed her diamond-studded hair band and an emerald ear-ring. He’d have had the pair, but the woman was travelling swiftly, denying Skulks his rightful prize. It was to be only a slight setback, for she had left the door to her room open and Skulks went inside, quickly emptying her jewellery box into a small bag he was carrying. The items were reassuringly heavy and he’d seen that they were all made of precious metals and gems, rather than being the showy dress jewellery that people with less money would usually own.
By the time Skulks had completed his circuit of the first floor, he was nearly three thousand Scroats richer and with a fair quantity of high-quality baubles. Nevertheless, he felt that he was missing out on the motherlode and set off up the stairs to the second floor landing to locate it. Upstairs, the house seemed less well-travelled, with several of the doors locked. Drawn to a locked door like a moth to a flame, Skulks opened a couple of them and peeked inside. They were guest rooms, with no evidence that they’d been recently used.
Other rooms looked to be more frequently-visited and Skulks could make out footprints in the dust, many of them leading to a stout wooden door. It was no more stout and no larger than the other doors, but it had a smattering of mage wards sealing its frame, which Skulks was able to read and determine that they were there to kill anyone attempting to gain uninvited entry, rather than simply give them a friendly shock. Skulks carefully unravelled these wards, peeling them away as if he were unwinding a ball of wool. One of the wards was a bit stubborn and he had to worry away at it for a second or two in order to tug it clear of the frame. Soon the door was open to admit one Wielder and then closed quietly behind him.
