Garrett thought on the woodsman’s words and knew Bael spoke truly. He couldn’t carry Willie all the way out, and there was no way he was going to leave him. He nodded once.
“If you ration, you will have enough food for the four days it will take me to return.” Bael shook his brother’s hand and tied his hatchet to his belt.
Bael’s journey to the Alvy’s farm could be hastened by sleeping little, and with horses he could indeed be back within four days. Garrett shuddered at the thought of having to spend one more night in the forest, but pushed these thoughts from his mind. He must take things one hour at a time. He knew that to survive any strenuous circumstances, he had to stay focused and in the present.
Bael shouldered his bag of supplies and nodded to Garrett as he went to the lip of the crevice. He stopped before lowering himself onto the pebble strewn slope. “For what it’s worth, we’re sorry we accepted Roget’s offer.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but pushed himself over the lip. The sound of loose rocks preceded him down the incline.
Garrett stood and went to where Willie lay. He looked at his friend, but felt helpless. “Willie?” he ventured, but the older man did not stir. Garrett nudged Willie’s leg with his boot, and the bowman moaned softly. Deciding there was nothing he could do for his friend, he went to the fire where Avros was struggling to stand. “How’s your leg,” he asked.
“I’m fine,” said Avros without any hint of anger. “Just rewards for a hasty decision. Bael and I both have to pay.” He surprised Garrett with a grin. “I would have done the same as you, had I been surprised in the dark of the night.” He used his walking stick to batter a metal pot toward Garrett. “Do you mind filling that from the creek? I’m sure you and your friend are as thirsty as I am.”
Garrett held his hand out. “Can I borrow that hatchet?” he asked. Avros hesitated briefly and then passed the utility axe over. “We need to stock up on firewood,” said Garrett. He didn’t add that he might require the hatchet for self-defense.
Walking to the ledge, he looked out across the wooded valley. Bael had already disappeared in the weak light. He carefully lowered himself onto the rocky slope, so as not to put his wrist in harm’s way. At the bottom of the grade, he found the tiny rill of runoff water and filled the pot. He drank several mouthfuls, only now aware of how true Avros’ words had been. He was thirsty.
Belching softly, he stood in the cool morning air listening to the sounds of the forest. Leaves rustled softly in the wind, but there was no sound of insect, bird or animal. The tinkling of the rill would have been calming, at any other time. Now it served only as a distraction. Garrett lowered the pot and assessed the hillside for tracks. There were no discernable paw prints, and he couldn’t tell whether the gravel had been disturbed by man or beast. He didn’t have to wonder though, for he knew without a doubt, that somewhere out there, the creature was waiting, perhaps even watching him, right now.
Scanning the valley again, he crossed the rill and made for a nearby stand of poplar. He noticed several of the trees had been downed in a wind storm, and the wood was aged and ripe for burning. He cut into a branch with the hatchet. The ensuing echo made him stop and listen, his mouth suddenly dry again. When there was no response to the loud noise he had made, he proceeded to cut several more limbs, listening intently for sounds from the nearby forest after each blow was struck. All remained quiet. Tucking the branches under his arm he returned to the creek and discarded his firewood in a pile, before filling the pot again.
Clambering up the steep slope with a bad wrist and a brimming pot was difficult enough, but the shifting gravel underfoot made it even more of a chore. At last, he struggled over the lip and onto the safety of their ledge. Now that it was getting lighter, he could see that Roget and the others had left their gear in the cave, the night before. Obviously, they had planned on using the location as a base, and had not foreseen the need for a quick departure. Bedrolls, pots and pans, and packsacks lay as the men had left them.
Garrett went to Willie and knelt over his friend. Willie’s eyes remained closed, and sweat beaded on the older man’s face. Garrett felt his friend’s skin, though he already knew the man was burning up. He poured some of the water into his palm and worked it over Willie’s forehead and back into his hairline. He filled his palm again and tried to dribble it into Willie’s mouth. The bowman turned away, and most of the water hit his cheek.
Garrett sighed and took the water to Avros who drank gratefully. The hunter lowered the pot from his lips and tapped at his wrapped knee. “I cut some strips from one of Minx’s shirts.” He bobbed his head at Garrett’s dark and swollen wrist. “Never knew a man who could tie a good knot with one hand,” he said meaningfully.
Garrett nodded without saying anything and waited while Avros retrieved his homemade bandages. After his injured arm was wrapped, Garrett thanked the man and gathered two of the pots. “You keep the fire going, and I’ll fetch more water. I found a supply of firewood, but nothing we can make spears with. I’ll keep looking.”
“Spears?” asked Avros uneasily. “I’ve hunted boar, bear, and even moose with the Mogi. I don’t fancy a go at that thing I saw last night.”
“You may not have a choice,” said Garrett. “This time you are not the hunter.”
11
Eggs Check, Basket Check
Merle paced behind the bars of his holding cell. The stiff fabric of his orange jumper irritated his bruised neck with every step. Crossing his arms, he glared between the bars at his three friends. Coral sat at the small table the constables had brought for his visitors, Frank leaned against the wall on the other side of the table, and at the far end of the corridor, Vic was drawing stick figures on a dirty pane of glass.
“She doesn’t want to see me?” Merle was beyond confused, and if the truth were known, was feeling scared in the pit of his stomach. “This makes no sense.” He resumed his pacing.
Coral watched the dragon, and then glanced down at her notes again. Adjusting her glasses, she licked a finger and flipped back a page, reading to herself. Beside the table, the minotaur yawned and stretched, his horns almost touching the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Merle, but nothing we’ve uncovered lends itself to your theory.” The minotaur seemed a touch nervous.
“Azi does appear shaken by the death of Senior,” added Coral carefully. “I think she needs time to collect herself.”
“I have very little time to work with,” snapped Merle. He stopped his pacing and pierced Frank with another hard look. “And you’re sure you couldn’t find Garrett’s notebook?”
“I said I was sorry,” admitted Frank. “Vic and I turned your place upside down, and there was no sign of a blue notebook anywhere.”
“Damn it,” swore Merle. He slapped his hands together in anger. “Garrett keeps everything we’ve figured out on P.C.’s code syntax in that notebook. We have numbered lists of commands, snippets from P.C.’s onboard manual, and several new commands Garrett has added to P.C.’s core programming. It has to be there.” Frank shook his head sadly.
“You looked under the sink?”
“Yes,” Frank nodded.
“Under Garrett’s mattress?”
“It wasn’t there.”
“What about in that pile of magazines he keeps by his bed?”
“Not dere,” sang Vic, approaching the others from down the hall. “Coral eben checked de magazines by your bed.” Coral’s cheeks grew red and she hurriedly thumbed through her notebook, without looking up. “Frank made me check de outhouse. No notebook.” Vic’s fingers splayed wide in a display of emptiness.
Merle growled to himself and made another circuit within his cell. “If only that judge would let us check P.C. himself. The answer has to be there, recorded in his memory banks.”
“Judge Perew isn’t going to let anyone near P.C., especially someone he believes could produce false evidence. He doesn’t trust the technology and – like the rest of us – doesn’t understand it. Too bad there wasn’t
a technologist in Deep Cove we could get to pull the information from P.C. Then we’d have our data, and the judge couldn’t blame you for falsifying any of it.”
Merle jumped onto his top bunk and crossed his arms, his legs swinging agitatedly. He glared at them like a sullen child. “Oh, there’s someone else in Deep Cove who knows P.C. inside and out, alright. Though I doubt she would be willing to help us, seeing as she murdered that old man for his money.”
* * * *
The crowd was reluctant to part as Officer Waters guided Merle up the stairs to the courthouse. A current of excitement rippled through the masses at the arrival of the dragon defendant.
“Bob Morton, Cassadian Chronicle,” said a short balding man as he stepped in front of Merle. “As the last day of the trial begins, and faced with the mounting pile of evidence that Wally Thompson has presented to the court, do you still maintain your golem’s innocence?” The little reporter wiped at his nose with his pencil, ready to jot down any statement Merle offered.
“As P.C.’s owners, I once again reiterate that Garrett and I are innocent,” said Merle. He did not stop walking as Waters pushed the reporter away with one arm.
“Edwin Lambert, Daily Deep,” said a younger man with red hair. This second reporter attacked from the opposite side, forcing Waters to shove back with his reverse arm. “Are you admitting the golem went berserk and killed Mr. Potty on his own?”
“No comment,” said Merle.
Two more notepads appeared from the crowd. “Jenn Strombopolus, Geodoville Tribune,” said an older woman, waving her pad under the dragon’s nose.
“Ollie Rivers, Fable Free Press,” came the next shout.
Officer Waters’ and Merle’s forward progress halted completely as the reporters swarmed them. “Frank!” yelled Merle. “Frank, where the hell are you?”
“Everybody MOOoooooVE,” bellowed a deep throated cattle call. The crowd between Merle and the bottom of the steps parted instantly. Frank – followed by Vic – made his way to Merle. Puffing out his enormous hairy chest, Frank challenged the crowd with his eyes. Arriving at Merle, he snorted and pawed the ground, while the rest of the reporters scampered out of Officer Waters’ path. “Sorry about that,” snorted the minotaur. “Vic stopped to give an interview down at the cotton candy stand.”
“What?” asked Merle flabbergasted. “You were supposed to keep an eye on him, and above all else keep him quiet,” he whispered hotly.
“Hey buddy, I right here,” said Vic from behind Frank. He waved his cotton candy at Merle to get his attention. All four of them were moving again, with Waters guiding them forward. “It’s a free country, an I can talk to whoeber I want!”
“It’s okay,” said Frank in low tones, “It wasn’t about the trial. They wanted to ask about Vic’s dad.” Merle groaned, but didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t have the patience today to explain that an article associating Garrett and himself with a notorious gangster would be anything but helpful.
Making his way into the courtroom, Merle breathed easier at the marked reduction of bodies inside. Waters stopped inside the door, and the dragon carried on to his desk at the front of the court. He was only too aware of Junior’s eyes on him as he passed the young man and his Fiancé. For her part, Azi once again wore her dark veil, and Merle could not read her face beneath it.
Quiet conversation washed over the courthouse as the crowd awaited the arrival of the Judge. Officer Waters and Bailiff Oppie were just closing the doors at the back when a youngster elbowed his way inside. “Do you mind?” he said snottily to Waters as he barged past the policeman. The newcomer had dyed purple hair that stuck up at odd angles and a small gold chain that trailed from his ear to his nose. His arms were full, carrying two small vases. Making his way to Alex and Azi, he bowed stiffly. The conversation quieted around the threesome as people turned to see what was going on. Merle listened intently from his writing table.
“Hey, sorry for your loss, eh?” said the kid. “I missed you before you left your hotel.” He shrugged and passed one of the urns to Alex. “Mr. Yates sends his condolences, and this two for one coupon.” He used his free hand to scrummage within a pocket and produced a certificate, which he passed to Azi. “You know, in case you guys want to be done at Yates Crematorium when the time comes.” Alex said nothing, his cold eyes forcing the kid to take a step back. Azi thanked the boy and nodded for him to be on his way. “Whatever,” mumbled the teenager. He turned and then stopped. Holding his remaining urn out at arm’s length, he assessed the vase’s design. “Err, do you mind?” he asked. Before the dark haired man could respond, the kid snatched the first urn back and thrust the second into Alex’s hands. “Sorry bout that.”
The kid spun in a circle and searched the crowd. Spotting Vic two seats back, he called out to the muscled man. “Victor! What up homie?” He closed on the gangster’s son and slapped Vic’s meaty palm with one of his own. Vic giggled as they touched elbows in their familiar childish greeting.
“You know he’s white?” rumbled Frank. The purple haired teen stared at Frank with a dumb look on his face. “Nice jewelry,” said Frank sarcastically.
“Uh, you too,” said the boy, nodding at Frank’s colossal gold nose ring. Frank snorted, and the kid nearly dropped the urn when he jumped. Looking sideways at the minotaur, he addressed Vic again. “If you and your old man need any more favors, you know where to find me.” Vic grinned.
The youth once more scanned the crowd and this time he made his way a few rows behind Merle. Merle climbed up on his table and gasped when he saw the boy stop in front of Mr. Parks. Merle swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and watched as Mr. Parks wiped a tear from his eye. The teen passed Mr. Parks a thick silver chain to go along with the ashes. Without him even realizing what he was doing, Merle’s wings carried him over to the seat next to his huge neighbor.
To say that Mr. Parks was fat would be an understatement. The man had more rolls than a pastry shop. His body was so large, his head looked like it had been placed on there as an afterthought. Sadly, Mrs. Parks was even fatter. Garrett liked to tell the story of the time he had seen the pair of them swimming at the lighthouse. Everything was fine he said, until Mrs. Parks jumped in, and the tide went out.
Now, Merle looked up at the giant man and asked hesitantly “Mrs. Parks?”
Mr. Parks was cradling the twelve inch diameter choker in his hands and shaking his head. The rolls around his neck jiggled with the effort. “What’s that my boy?” he said lowering the chain.
“Is that Mrs. Parks?” asked Merle softly. He nodded at the urn of ashes.
“Mrs. Parks?” asked the fat man, not understanding.
“I knew she was in bad shape with that hip and all, but I never imagined…”
Mr. Parks’ laughter boomed across the courthouse, and several in the crowd turned to see what the commotion was. He quieted himself and thrust the chain out for Merle to read it.
“Huck,” read Merle. “Your dog.” he said, recalling the alpine mastiff that often roamed the streets near their house.
“Mrs. Parks is laid up at home,” said the man. “Thanks to P.C., I haven’t had one minute of peace in days, now. Make me a sandwich, Andy. Fetch me some cake, Andy. Come change my diaper, Andy,” he prattled on in his best wife impression.
Merle shuddered at the mental imagery. “Well, I’m glad she’s okay,” he admitted, “I saw that bracelet and thought the worst.”
“Bracelet?” asked the man.
“All rise,” called Bailiff Oppie.
“I have to be going,” said Merle quickly. Lifting himself into the air, he flew to his designated seat, just as the judge entered.
Perew seated himself, and everyone in the courtroom followed suit. Sorting the files on his desk, he banged his gavel on the sounding block. “Court is in session. The defendant Merle the dragon will now lay out his defense case. You may call your first witness.”
Merle cleared his throat. “I call Alex Potty Junior t
o the stand.” He waited for Alex to enter the booth before nodding to the man. Alex ignored the gesture.
“Did you love your father?” asked Merle.
“Objection,” bellowed Thompson. “He’s badgering the witness. Of course he loved his father. Everyone knows he adored the man. We’ve heard a dozen accounts saying so…”
“Sustained,” said Perew.
Merle looked at the judge in disbelief before turning back to Junior. “Did you and your father ever fight?” asked Merle, trying a slightly different angle.
“What has this to do with anything?” asked Junior, turning to the judge. “His golem kills my father in front of dozens of witnesses, and now I’m subjected to this?”
“If Alex will answer the question, Your Honour, I can assure you it is pertinent to my case.”
The judge scowled and scratched at his eyebrow. “I will allow it, but you are on a short leash, Mr. Merle. Get to your point and get to it quickly.”
“My father and I have been known to argue about a few small things,” agreed Alex with a scowl of his own. “What father and son don’t?”
“Did you ever argue about your business partnership?”
“Again I fail to see the relevance,” said Alex standing.
“BE SEATED,” snarled Merle, and even the judge seemed taken aback by this. Alex remained standing for a second more, but when the judge failed to intervene he crossed his arms and thrust himself back onto his chair. “I have here a record of your bank account, Alex.”
“So what?” snapped Alex. “I have nothing to hide.”
“I think it would interest most people to know that, although you and your father claimed to be business partners, it wasn’t a fifty-fifty split. You receive a two thousand gon a month stipend from your father’s accounts.”
Something Stinks in Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 4) Page 14
