by Farr, Cathy;
‘D-did you hear that?’
‘Crronk!’
Bewildered, Wil searched for the source of this new noise. Pricilla was perched on the top bucket of the now motionless mill wheel. With a flap of her wings, she uttered another loud ‘Crronk! Prruk!’ and glided low over the water towards them. But just before she reached the bank, she swerved upstream and set down on a crumbling wall.
‘That bird looks just like the one that hangs around Lovage Hall,’ said Mortimer.
‘Crronk!’ said Pricilla indignantly.
‘It is the one,’ said Wil. As with Lady Élanor’s unusual abilities to heal and Tally’s ability to read minds, Wil wasn’t sure how much Mortimer knew about Pricilla, so instead he repeated his question.
‘Did you hear that noise just now, Mort? That laugh?’
Mortimer frowned, ‘What laugh?’
Pricilla took off from her perch and soared towards them. Within a beak’s length of Phinn, she changed course and with a single beat of her wings wheeled away towards the castle; rather belatedly Phinn took exception and snapped at the empty air. Wil listened for the sound again – whatever it was – but nothing came. All he could hear was the stubborn trickle of the water on the mill race. Pricilla came gliding back. Wil shrugged.
‘Must have been a bird or something,’ he said unconvinced. But Mortimer wasn’t paying attention. He was watching Pricilla circling just above them, calling and then flapping back up river towards the tower. She repeated the move four times.
‘I think she wants us to follow her,’ said Wil eventually.
‘Crronk!’ called Pricilla, circling again.
Wil nodded.
‘Yep, I definitely think she wants us to follow her!’
Minutes later they were at the base of the golden tower. Close up, its gleaming walls were surprisingly smooth and Mortimer gave up trying to find a foothold almost as soon as he started to look. Pricilla was nowhere to be seen.
‘I just can’t see what we are supposed to do, Wil,’ said Mortimer, making no attempt to hide his scepticism. ‘Are you sure that bird was trying to give us a message?’
Wil didn’t answer. It was obvious that Mortimer was completely unconvinced.
‘Look, Wil. You can stay here if you want and try to work out what that bird is trying to tell you but I think I’ll head back to the castle garden. I reckon I can get in through that door at the back of the kitchen – did you see it? I spotted that Mhaddphat woman at the egg stall again just now so with any luck there won’t be anyone to get in my way.’
Wil bit his lip. What was Pricilla trying to tell them? Ironically Wil’s own rather haphazard ability to read the minds of animals was at that moment completely failing him – although he’d always had the feeling with Pricilla that it was up to her when Wil read her mind – and what he saw!
‘OK, Mort,’ he said. He knew Mortimer would be happier doing something and, on his own, Wil hoped that Pricilla might be a bit more forthcoming. ‘Although the moons help you if Mhaddphat does catch you! And what about the hobgoblets? I bet she left them to torment the bees!’
‘Oh, don’t worry about them. Martha gave me a block of treacle toffee – goodness knows why! It’ll glue their teeth together for weeks!’ And with a laugh he kicked Shadow into a gallop and headed back towards the walled garden with Mia lopping easily behind him. Phinn took a long look at Wil and settled back on his haunches.
‘Yep, that’s right, boy – all I need to do now is figure out what on earth Pricilla was trying to get me to do!’
From where Wil stood, the golden tower seemed to stretch up into the clouds. He took a few steps back, put his hand on his hip and craned his neck to see if he could get a better view of the tiny balcony nestled halfway between him and the sky. As his hand rested on the silk rope around his waist the staff in Wil’s other hand became strangely heavy. The hint of an idea crept like a shadow into the back of his mind. Not really knowing why, he let go. The staff clattered to the ground where it immediately broke into three to make a triangle. The idea got a little sharper.
‘Crronk, crronk, prruk!’
Wil looked up. On the edge of the balcony he could see Pricilla’s black shape. The idea crystalised.
‘Ohh! Well come down here and give me a hand!’
‘Crronk!’ came the reply but when Wil looked again there was no sign of the raven. He sighed.
‘Great! That bird is very useful when she wants to be,’ he said to Phinn, ‘But if she doesn’t want to be…’
He reached for the triangle. With a snap, it once more became a rigid staff. He weighed it in his hand. Then he slid one of the bolts out from his boot and retreated a few more steps. He surveyed the tower again. The balcony was a long way up.
Wil’s first three attempts to fire a bolt through the railing at the edge of the balcony resulted in both him and Phinn retreating at speed as the missile fell short and plummeted back to the ground. The fourth attempt, however, went straight over the ledge high above.
Sure now that he could make the distance, Wil tied the rope to another bolt, leaving enough of a tail to fasten to the rounded end of the staff. He loaded the bolt into his bow, took a step back and looked at Phinn. The hound’s unblinking amber eyes studied him through a pair of straggly eyebrows.
‘Yes, I know,’ said Wil. ‘I think this is what they call a long shot.’
He released the bolt.
To his utter amazement the bolt went straight through the balcony railings taking the staff with it. He heard a satisfying clatter.
‘Well I’ll be!’ he breathed.
The silk rope dangled from the balcony falling just short of the ground – whether this was a sheer coincidence or design on someone’s part, Wil had no time to contemplate. He gave the rope a sharp tug – it held. Then he wound the end around his hand and leant backwards – it still held. He took one last look around the skies for Pricilla – no sign and no sound.
‘Right, Phinn. Wait here. I’ll go and get Tally then we’ll go and find Mortimer.’ He looked at the balcony high above his head and back at Phinn. ‘Unless he’s up there already, of course!’
The climb up the sheer tower was challenging – especially as Wil had forgotten to take off his cloak. Luckily the rope held. It was also very easy to grip, and going hand over hand Wil found he could walk up the gold bricks fairly easily, although he couldn’t help wondering why everything he did lately involved heights!
About halfway up, Wil was just starting to feel a bit more confident when a huge spider crawled out of a wide crack that was working its way from the balcony to the ground like a vein. Wil very nearly let go of the rope!
He reached the little balcony panting and sweating and was deeply relieved to see the triangular shape jammed against the other side of the railings, forming a perfect anchor. With one final effort, Wil hauled himself over the rail and flopped onto the balcony – to be greeted by a round of applause.
At the back of the balcony, a narrow door lay wide open into a dark room. The applause petered out and was replaced by the same shrieking laugh Wil had heard by the mill. Suddenly he felt very cold.
‘Oh, do come and join us,’ said a boy’s voice. ‘We were wondering how you’d get in – nice touch with the stick!’
Warily, Wil got to his feet using the rail for support but he caught the triangle with his foot in the process. It sprang back into a rigid length and gave in to the weight of the rope still dangling down the side of the tower. It slid through the bars. Wil just had time to see the staff plunge into the ground a few feet away from the dozing Phinn – the Fellhound did not stir. Both Phinn and the staff were an awfully long way down.
‘Oops!’ said the voice behind him. Wil turned. There in the doorway wearing a smug grin stood The Jackal; he was a lot cleaner than the last time they had met and his rags had been replaced by sleek purple velvet. ‘Wil, come and meet Mother. Oh, and by the way, I’ll take that bow… and the rest of those bolts.’
&nb
sp; CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hats and Horrors
In contrast to the gleam of the sunlit gold, the dark interior of the tower took Wil by surprise. Temporarily blind, he was aware of something fluttering and distressed to his right; he was also aware of something else – pain, hate, darkness – he wasn’t sure, but it felt…. oddly familiar. His mouth went dry – with a huge effort he shut it out – it couldn’t be; his imagination or the light, were obviously playing tricks on his mind.
‘Crrrronk!’
Wil turned towards the sound, blinking desperately to clear his eyes. Somewhere else in the room a woman shrieked. Clapping, again. Wil’s stomach wound into a double knot. There, pegged to a large wooden table by a bolt – his bolt – right through her wing, was Pricilla! She flapped, but her body contorted grotesquely as the bolt held her in place. Wil span back to face The Jackal who was looking extremely pleased with himself.
‘Mother and I guessed she was a friend of yours by the din she was making,’ he drawled, loading another of Wil’s bolts into Wil’s crossbow. ‘She was a gift really. I couldn’t believe my eyes when she flew in here… followed by your bolt. Nice bit of shooting by the way. I thought knives were your thing?’
Wil was struggling with the scene before him. Had he really shot Pricilla? And The Jackal was very different from the last time they had met; Tally was nowhere to be seen and… a strange darkness edged his mind again – there was something lurking in the corner behind the clapping woman and it smelt really bad!
The woman suddenly jumped up from the chair in which she had been sitting. ‘A hat!’ she exclaimed. Jammed down onto her head, almost covering her eyes was a beret covered with little oval strips of pink felt. ‘It’ll make a very nice hat. Those feathers – black. Lovely. I need a new hat.’
‘Yes, mother,’ the boy crooned. ‘What an excellent idea. That’s why I caught her… for you. For a new hat.’
Relief and hate coursed in parallel through Wil’s veins. He hadn’t speared Pricilla to the table – The Jackal had. And he’d done it for his mother’s entertainment!
‘You’ll pay for that, Jackal… or whatever your name is!’ hissed Wil.
‘Oh, I thought The Jackal made me sound quite romantic. And anyway some of that was true… well, my name is Colin. The Miller bit – being found in the flour sacks and being called Miller – just my little joke. Ha, ha!’
He stopped laughing abruptly and aimed the bow at Wil’s heart. ‘Actually my name’s Tinniswood. I believe you killed my father.’
The woman clapped again even more enthusiastically than before.
‘Oh, you’re so clever, Colin darling. My clever, funny Colin. A new hat for mommy. So clever and so kind!’
With his eye on his bow, realisation started to dawn. It had all been a trap – and Wil had walked right into it. He’d actually felt sorry for this boy; he’d trusted him! Wil felt like a complete fool.
Whatever was in the corner moved; excruciating pain shot though Wil’s entire body. Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead.
‘Where’s Tally?’ he demanded.
The same noxious stench wafted around his nose again, stronger this time.
‘Poooohhh!’ cried the woman waving her hand over her nose. ‘Snuffy’s made a smell! Make the smell go away Colin, make it go now!’
Colin reached for a scent bottle and sprinkled copious drops around his mother’s head and shoulders. A strong smell of bergamot hit Wil’s nostrils.
‘Tally?’ The boy frowned and his eyes searched the room as if he was trying to recall the name. ‘Ooh, if you mean the headstrong, foul-mouthed harridan that we used to get you here…’ He walked to the balcony and looked out towards the city square. ‘I suspect Lord Rexmoore and his charming wife are warming up the crowd for her big moment, as we speak.’
‘What?’ choked Wil.
‘Yeees,’ said Colin. Wil could see he was enjoying this. He let the bow drop and held out his right hand to inspect his now pristine and beautifully manicured nails. ‘You know, you were taking such a long time to find her that we had to give you the information in the end. I mean, it was getting painful!’ He ran his thumbnail under the even longer nail on his middle finger and flicked it. ‘And when it looked like you’d finally got the message I agreed to wait here with mother to see you tucked in, so to speak. They’ve gone down to judge the competition before lighting the bonfire. I think it’s a marvellous idea, don’t you – burning a witch for the Alcama.’
‘Tally is not a witch!’ Wil hissed through gritted teeth.
Colin wrinkled his nose. Wil’s crossbow was now pointing at the floor.
‘Weeell, I’m not sure that’s strictly true, now is it, Wil? I mean, that temper of hers is pretty evil, for a start! Imelda tells me it’s some sort of anniversary today too, now what was it?’ He put his finger on his lips and studied the ceiling, ‘Oh, that’s it – the day she was born…and, well, she did arrive on a flying horse – pretty unexpected, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Flying horse! You have seen some of those pets down there, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but no one else can speak to their pets!’ retorted the boy.
‘I speak to Phinn all the time!’
‘Yes, but you don’t have full-blown conversations with him. You know, full sentences – answering questions!’
‘Answering questions!’ echoed Colin’s mother, with a theatrical nod.
Wil floundered. Fortunately – or not – the thing emitting the smell chose that moment to emerge from its corner.
‘Snuffy-woo!’ exclaimed the woman with her arms outstretched. Colin took a rapid step back towards a doorway on the other side of the room and raised the crossbow. But this time it wasn’t pointing at Wil.
‘No!’ said Wil. Pain and rage washed over him. Suddenly he found it very difficult to breathe.
From out of the corner limped a black shape. Low to the ground and smaller than the others Wil had seen out on Tel Harion, but a Wraithe Wolf nonetheless. The Jackal laughed again.
‘Well, how’s that for unexpected, Wil Calloway?’
Wracked with pain now, Wil looked from the wolf to the boy and back again. Colin’s mother cooed.
‘So bootiful,’ she whispered. ‘Snuffy, come to mommy. Ooo, sooo cute.’
But Snuffy did not look remotely cute to Wil. As the wretched animal dragged its pain-wracked frame into the light, the reason they had not already been ripped apart became obvious. Around the wolf’s neck was an iron collar bound so tightly that Wil could hear the animal’s laboured breath; an iron muzzle had been fixed around its jaws – how, Wil did not even begin to try to imagine – and where there should have been a barbed, razorsharp claw on each of its front legs, Wil could see wounds crusted with dried blood that leaked afresh as the animal limped forward.
Colin’s mother seemed completely oblivious to the animal’s terrible condition. She bent to her knees, threw her arms around the wolf’s neck and hugged it tightly. The wolf let out a low growl and tried to flick its head around to bite, but the collar and the muzzle rendered it helpless.
‘Meet the winner of this year’s Unexpected Pets competition, Wil,’ said Colin with a callous smile. ‘Mother wins every year. Last year I got her an albino sabre tooth – exceptionally rare, you know.’
‘But I thought the competition wasn’t until later – and this is hardly a pet!’ exclaimed Wil, unable to take his eyes off the sorry creature as he shared its pain. With her arms tight around the wolf’s neck, Colin’s mother cooed and giggled. ‘Weell, you know, bit of poetic licence, hey? She always wins because she gives the gold bar back to Imelda. Not remotely interested – no, hats are Mother’s first and only love… Anyway,’ he shrugged, ‘Imelda asked me to wait for you first. This way Mother and I can make more of an entrance.’ He didn’t take his eyes off the Wraithe Wolf. ‘Mother does like a bit of a do. She hasn’t been too well for a while now. Doesn’t get out much. The Unexpected Pets is her one big treat of the year.’
‘So what happened to the sabre tooth tiger,’ asked Wil, doubting that the pathetic animal in front of him considered this to be any form of treat.
‘Oh, it was marvellous. We got enough fur to make two hats and a cloak,’ answered Colin. ‘I wasn’t too keen on the cloak, white is so difficult to keep clean, but the hats were a triumph – winter wear only, of course. We had one each.’
Wil felt sick.
‘And what will you do with Snuffy-woo?’
‘Another hat, of course! They’re all unique, you know. She’s got quite a collection; although the dwhykely turban smells appalling when it gets warm. We’ve got the claws from this one already, as you can see. We’re planning to use the teeth too. I mean – two sets from one mouth – I think this one’ll be an absolute classic!’
‘So what about me?’ asked Wil, unable to avoid the question any longer, and needing to take his eyes away from the suffering wolf even if he still shared every painful breath.
‘You?’ said Colin in mock surprise. ‘Oh, yes. Um, you’re going to stay here so that Imelda can ask you about Lady Élanor’s legacy later. She’s a pretty good inquisitor too, you know.’
‘And how are you going to stop me from escaping once you’ve gone off to the competition,’ asked Wil, making no attempt to hide his contempt for this cruel, arrogant boy. Colin slowly turned and took aim with Wil’s crossbow.
‘I’ve got to shoot you in the leg to stop you running awa-’
The tower door exploded off its hinges. Wil’s bow flew out of Colin’s hands and Phinn bounded into the room, pinning the door with Colin under it to the floor. Wil heard the bow skitter across the floor but couldn’t see where it went. Colin’s mother shrieked and released the wolf to clap wildly.
‘Oh, Colin. A door – a dog – a new hat!’
Her shrieking laugh echoed around the bare room and she continued her insane applause.
Still on top of the door, Phinn swept his huge tail across the floor boards and gave one deep bark; a moment later Mia, followed by Mortimer, appeared in the doorway at the head of a golden staircase. Mortimer looked from Wil to Pricilla, to the clapping woman, to the pathetic Wraithe Wolf – one of its wounds was now pumping with blood.
