by V M Jones
There was no answer, not even an echo. But deep down I knew all along there wouldn’t be. In my heart I knew that by now Hannah would be far away. She’d have stood where we were standing and would have looked out to the east, towards the sea. Like I had, she would have seen the distant walls of Arakesh. She knew that was where we’d last seen Tiger Lily, so that’s where she would have headed. But there was just one other possibility. ‘You don’t suppose …’ I said tentatively, ‘You don’t suppose she might have somehow stumbled across the cottage I told you about?’
Rich’s eyes lit up. ‘The one where those two weird old people lived — Thingy and Whatsit —’
‘Argos and Ronel,’ I said slowly, remembering. They’d helped me when I was in trouble, however reluctantly — on Argos’ part, at least. If Hannah had cried out, like I did, for whatever reason …
‘Good thinking, Adam. Let’s head on down and ask them if they’ve seen her. She’s probably sitting in front of their fire having a nice hot drink.’
We left the open hillside and headed down into the trees, instinctively clustering closer together in the chilly shadows. I led the way, listening for the sound of the stream that would lead me to the cottage. Jamie stumbled along after me, breathing down my neck, standing on my heels, tripping over roots, and managing to squelch through every puddle on the forest floor. Our progress was almost completely silent apart from his huffing and puffing and grouching — any sound our footfalls might have made was completely muffled by the springy layer of red, bronze and brown leaves that carpeted the ground.
‘Do shut up, Jamie,’ said Richard good-naturedly. ‘The racket you’re making, we wouldn’t hear Hannah if she was behind the next tree yelling her head off!’
Yes, I thought. And who knows what might hear you? Because no matter how peaceful and safe the forest looked, I had an uncomfortable feeling of being watched — that if I spun round quickly enough … The growl of Argos’s gruff voice sounded in my mind, as clear as if he was beside me: You have been making enough noise to wake the dead … and let us hope you have not. The quieter we were, the better. And the sooner we were out of the forest, the happier I’d be.
‘Ouch!’ yelped Jamie. ‘No need to throw things at me, Richard!’
‘I didn’t!’
‘Yes, you did! It hit me on the head! Look — even through my hood it’s left a lump the size of an egg!’
‘Shhhh!’ I said in a low voice. ‘The river’s over on the right — can you hear it? This is the way I went with Argos — down this slope, I’m sure of it —’ At that moment something cracked me on the head — a sharp rap that made me flinch and duck away. ‘Yeowch! Richard …’
Rich held out his hands, a look of innocent bafflement on his face. One thing for sure, it hadn’t been him. I looked up. Between the leaves, way up in the forest canopy, I could see them clearly — dense bunches almost like grapes, of something that …
‘Ow!’ yipped Gen…. of something that was falling all round us like fat hailstones, landing without a sound on the cushioning leaves. I picked up the one that had hit me. It was a round, purplish-coloured nut, bigger than a chestnut and round as a marble — and as hard as a marble too, with a shiny, polished skin.
‘Nuts! I wonder if you can eat them?’ said Jamie.
‘Nuts to you too — and next time, be sure of your facts before you go blaming me for everything bad that happens to you!’
Taking care to stay together, with our hoods over our heads for protection, we tramped on through the trees in the direction of the cottage — or at least, the direction I was sure the cottage had been. But no matter how many times I retraced my steps, or how many landmarks I thought I recognised, there was no sign of it anywhere. Sure, it had been tucked away … but I’d have bet I could find it again, no problem.
At last I slowed and stopped, frowning, listening for the ring of an axe on wood, sniffing for the scent of woodsmoke. Nothing.
‘It’s a big forest, Adam. And if it’s so well hidden, I’m sure Hannah wouldn’t have found it either,’ said Kenta comfortingly.
Unless it wanted to be found …
Impatiently, I shook the thought away. ‘It ought to be here …’ I said, more to myself than the others.
‘But it isn’t,’ finished Richard, practical as always. ‘And neither is Hannah, as far as I can see. She may be only five, but she’s sharp as a tack — she’d know her best shot at finding her cat would be to head downhill towards Arakesh. I vote that’s what we do too — then we’ll have plenty of time to scout around for clues before dark.’
‘We could try calling again, I suppose …’ said Gen doubtfully. But the others looked round uneasily at the listening forest, and didn’t answer.
‘I know!’ said Jamie, sounding suddenly more cheerful. ‘Let’s go to Arakesh and find Kai, and ask him for advice. We wouldn’t have got anywhere last time without his help. And who knows — he might even give us more of those bread rolls!’
Rich gave me a grin and a wink, and I felt my spirits rise. Looking round at the others, I could tell they felt the same. It wasn’t the thought of the rolls, but Kai himself — his cheery face, his perky cow’s lick, his permanent smile. His knowledge of Arakesh — its streets, its nooks and crannies … its secrets, and its dangers. If there was so much as a murmur of Hannah’s whereabouts, Kai would have heard it. But more than that, Kai was a friend. Friends forever …
Yes, Kai would be as good a starting point for our search as any — probably better.
The Brewer’s Butt
‘If Hannah tried to get into Arakesh through this gate, she’d have been caught before she went two steps,’ said Richard gloomily.
It was true. To a five-year-old, there would have been something reassuringly normal about the steady trickle of traffic entering the city — handcarts and wagons, work-stained farmers leading glonks with panniers of produce on their backs, their lop ears lolloping with every stride … even the occasional child. Hannah would have seen the guards at the gate, stopping and searching the wagons and questioning the owners. But would she have noticed the pikes leaning up against the wall, their razor-sharp blades glinting in the sun? Would she have seen how the children clung close to their mothers, burying their faces in their skirts as they drew near the gate? Most of all, would she have seen the grey shapes huddled like vultures beneath the city walls? I doubted it.
What Hannah would have seen was what I’d described to her: cute glonks, higgledy-piggledy houses, quaint cobbled streets, the magnificent temple rearing up in the centre of the city like a gigantic pink wedding cake. When I’d told Hannah the story of our quest — a few days after our return, when she was well enough — I’d made Arakesh sound like a fairy-tale city, full of excitement and surprises. I’d made the Curators out to be like Q had originally intended: wise, caring and kind. One of them would have found Tiger Lily, I told Hannah, and they’d love and care for her as much as she would herself. The reality was very different — and now I wished I’d told Hannah the truth. Sure, it would have frightened her … but that fear would have protected her. Who knows, if she’d been scared enough, she might still be sound asleep in her own four-poster bed in Quested Court, instead of here in Karazan.
But we knew a safe way into Arakesh — a secret way. The way Kai had shown us. And we intended to use it.
The tunnel under the city wall was harder to find than we remembered. The bushes concealing it had grown into a dense mass of tangled vegetation, and the mouth of the tunnel — when we eventually found it — was almost completely hidden under a network of twigs, cobwebs and fallen leaves. ‘Looks like Kai hasn’t been here for a while,’ muttered Rich.
‘No — but neither has anyone else. And that has to be good news,’ I said, with what I hoped was a reassuring grin. The last time we’d used the tunnel — when Kai had met us at the entrance with a bag of fragrant rolls — seemed very long ago.
From the mournful look on Jamie’s face, I could tell he was
remembering it too. ‘It’s pretty cobwebby, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Never mind, I’ll go first. I’m not scared of a spider or two. Rich, you take up the rear.’
I lay down on my stomach and wriggled into the narrow opening. It had a fusty, stale smell. The earth under my palms was dry and dusty, and I could feel cobwebs brushing against my face like ghostly fingers. It was pitch dark. The tunnel sloped steeply downwards, then levelled out and rose again. At this point the dry, earthy smell changed abruptly, and I coughed and felt myself gag. The stink of the glonks was worse than I remembered — and suddenly I was back in Highgate again, on hands and knees on the toilet floor, ammonia fumes burning my eyes and stinging my sinuses. One thing was for sure: I’d rather be anywhere than there — even in a glonk stable. Smiling, I crawled out of the mouth of the tunnel and squatted down behind the hay bales to wait for the others, my cloak over nose and mouth to try and mask the stench.
My eyes had adapted to the total darkness of the tunnel, and I could see clearly in the dusky gloom of the stable. One by one the others crawled out into the open, gasping and choking. In the stalls, I could hear the comforting farmyard sound of hooves moving on soft hay, and the occasional whickering snort and explosive fart. Cautiously, we stood up and dusted each other off, picking bits of straw out of our hair and trying to make ourselves look like solid citizens of Arakesh, instead of interlopers from another world. ‘At least we look the part this time,’ muttered Rich, with a sidelong grin at Jamie. ‘Most of us, anyway!’
In theory Kai could be anywhere. It was late afternoon, and trentice — the Karazan version of school — would be out for the day. He could be roaming the streets, or off somewhere with his friends — a sudden memory of Hob’s grinning face flashed into my mind. Or he could be helping his father in the inn … and from what he’d said about his dad, I was betting that’s exactly where he’d be.
We crept to the big double door and peered cautiously out. The courtyard was deserted, its cobbled floor swept clean, the drinking trough full of fresh, clean water. Glancing to the left, I noticed steep wooden steps leading up the side of the barn. Hadn’t Kai said …
‘His room’s up there, isn’t it?’ hissed Richard in my ear. ‘Remember him laughing about being kept awake all night by the racket when the glonks got into his father’s veggie patch and ate the beans? Should we go up and have a look? Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and find him there, doing his homework.’
We snuck up the stairs and hesitated outside the heavy wooden door. I lifted my hand to knock — and suddenly a weird feeling of unease swept though me, making the back of my neck prickle. Instinctively, I glanced over my shoulder … but there was nothing to see except the tense, expectant faces of the others clustered behind me. ‘Go on — hurry up!’ whispered Gen.
As softly as I could, I knocked on the door, my knuckles making barely any sound on the rough, pitted surface. ‘If he is in there, he won’t have heard you,’ breathed Kenta. ‘Can’t we just …’
We could. The door was on the latch, and swung open with the faintest of creaks when I pushed it. I peered round, then slipped inside, beckoning the others to follow me. The room was deserted. If it had ever been Kai’s bedroom, it wasn’t now. Sacks of grain lined the far wall; glonk harnesses hung from the rafters. There was no sign of a bed — or of Kai — anywhere.
‘Maybe the stink got too much for him, and they let him move into the inn,’ said Jamie with feeling.
The inn. My spirits sank. Like it or not, that’s where we were headed next. That’s where Kai would be — serving ale to weary travellers, peeling vegetables for the evening meal, making up beds for guests … there’d be enough work to keep him busy till bedtime.
I looked across at Rich, and he pulled a face back. ‘Do you think we can get away with it?’ he whispered.
‘What? Get away with what?’ quavered Jamie anxiously.
‘With going into the Busted Butt, or whatever it’s called, and finding him,’ Rich answered grimly. ‘I’m betting that’s where he is — and where he’s going to stay until tomorrow morning. And we haven’t got that kind of time to waste.’
Hearts hammering, trying desperately to look casual, we sauntered through the courtyard gateway and out into the street. For the time being at least, it was empty, rows of houses curving away on either side, their upper stories almost touching in places over the narrow lane. ‘Look!’ Jamie pointed to a wooden sign hanging from a rusty double chain, the words The Brewer’s Butt in flaking red and gold paint. A sturdy wooden barrel stood beside the door, bound with hoops of rusty metal. ‘A brewer’s butt, I’ll bet,’ said Rich with a grin. ‘One kind, anyhow. Let’s hope we don’t come across the other!’
‘If we do, we must just pretend to be travellers,’ Gen whispered as we hesitated in front of the door. ‘Drama’s one of my best subjects at school. I’m going to imagine I’m in a play — and after all, they must be used to all kinds of strangers arriving, being an inn.’
‘Maybe Kai’s on reception duty,’ said Jamie, ever hopeful, ‘and he’ll be the first person we see when we walk in.’ I tried to see through the windows on either side of the door, but the small, diamond-shaped panes of glass were thick and irregular, and hadn’t been cleaned for a while. Another job for Kai, I reckoned.
‘Come on — let’s do it!’ Rich squared his shoulders, pushed back his hood, and flung open the door. In his drab tunic and weatherworn boots, his face dark with Tyrotemp and scowling to conceal his nerves, he could easily have passed for a traveller from a distant city arriving for the night.
Just don’t let’s blow it, I thought, and followed him into the inn.
We were in a small, stone-flagged reception room. A desk opposite the door held a lantern, a small, dented gong, an ink well with a feather sticking out of it and a thick, leather-bound book. Two barrels, smaller versions of the one outside, held what looked like rolled-up parchments, with some kind of notice tacked to the wall behind them.
Double doors led off to the right; I could hear the rattle of pots and pans and the sound of someone singing. A rich, meaty smell hung in the air, making my stomach growl and my thoughts turn to dinnertime. There was a different, yeasty scent too — one I didn’t recognise.
‘The pub,’ hissed Rich, with a nod at the half-open door opposite the kitchen. Beyond it I could hear voices, and sense the comforting warmth of a log fire.
The door banged open and a big man bustled out, sleeves pushed up over his forearms, drying his hands on his apron. One glance was all it took to tell that this was Kai’s father. His good-natured face was a carbon copy of Kai’s … except it had a defeated, jowly look that reminded me of a bloodhound. The eyes were Kai’s, too — at least the set of them, but they looked weary, and the sparkle was missing. If there’d been any doubt left in my mind, his wiry grey hair stuck up in a cow’s lick that was an exact mirror image of Kai’s.
‘Well, young ’uns, and how may I be of service to you?’ he asked, folding his arms and looking down at us inquiringly.
We shuffled our feet and exchanged uncomfortable glances. Then Rich spoke up, astounding us all. ‘Good day to you, good innkeeper,’ he said boldly, striking a swashbuckling attitude, his voice clear and strong. ‘We were wondering …’ he paused, quickly regrouping … ‘we be travel-stained and hungry, and in search of a … a warm fire, and … a place to rest our weary feet.’
I blinked at him, impressed. I could tell he was pretty pleased with his own performance, too — he’d obviously taken Gen’s acting comment to heart.
‘You be young to be abroad alone,’ grunted Kai’s father. ‘Too young to join the menfolk by the fire, any road. But food I can offer you — if you have the gelden to pay for it.’
It was obvious Rich hadn’t been expecting to be asked for money, but he was on a roll, and tried gallantly to bluster his way through. Digging a hand into the pocket of his breeches, he fumbled for coins we all knew weren’t there. ‘By Zephyr!’ he sai
d in ringing tones. ‘I believe I have —’
But the words died on his lips. The innkeeper’s expression had changed in an instant from grudging welcome to horrified alarm, bordering on what looked almost like fear. ‘Be you mad to speak thus — to use that name in this place?’ he growled, glancing over his shoulder at the door standing ajar behind him. ‘You will bring disaster on us all. I can give you no welcome here!’
Rich gawked at him, totally dumbfounded. Whatever had gone wrong? Here he’d come out with a real slice of vintage Karazan — one I could tell he’d felt real proud of, that we’d heard Kai and Hob use countless times — and if he’d said the worst swear word he knew, it couldn’t have had a more dramatic effect. ‘B-but …’ he stammered.
‘Nay — you have said enough! Be gone — and take your companions with you!’
Well, we had nothing to lose. Looking as harmless as I possibly could, I stepped hesitantly forward. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ I said apologetically, ‘we … we were wondering whether we could maybe have a quick word with Kai … if he’s not too busy, that is.’
I was looking up into his face as I spoke, and that’s how I saw it: a flicker deep down in his eyes that had nothing to do with his next words. It was an expression I recognised instantly: sorrow, almost too deep to endure … and pain too great to bear. But then he spoke, and his words were harsh and grating, carrying clearly to every corner of the room and beyond.
‘I do not know of whom you speak. I have no son. I have never had a son. I have never had a child, or children.
‘Leave now, and never return!’
Hob
‘Well, so much for that,’ said Rich rather shakily. We were standing in the entrance of an alley a few streets away, and Richard’s were the first words spoken since we left the inn. ‘I’d have put money on him being Kai’s father. I guess they must have sold the inn and moved away.’
