12 Days of Christmas: A Christmas Collection

by Laura Greenwood

  ‘And of course, he is all alone.’ Mr Beringer’s eyes landed on the hidden dragons again, ‘quite friendless. Not even a shadow dragon to protect him anymore. I will send someone to meet you near the cathedral in half an hour and I will send others to search further downriver. I imagine Miss Torlin is, as usual, following her own leads. I will see myself out.’

  Whisper made himself visible and flew over to hover round Menilly’s shoulder as she put her cloak on. He huffed in her hair and his scales sparked like black glass. She looked at him and frowned.

  ‘How did he know about Misty?’ she said to Dorissa, ‘we said nothing about Misty.’

  6

  Capture

  Endrin bought some roasted chestnuts from a ragged looking man with a wheeled brazier. He could hear chittering and looking into the flames saw that they were being created by three shale dragons, stumbling over each other and belching fire.

  ‘That’s cruel,’ he said.

  ‘No-one’s making you buy nothin’, son.’

  Endrin felt the warmth of the chestnuts in his hand and hesitated. He was cold and stiff from sleeping in the pew and slipping out at dawn when the doors were opened for the early worshippers.

  ‘Choices ain’t so simple on the street,’ said the vendor, ‘it’s easier to breed shaleys than buy coal. Least I knows ‘em, least I cares about ‘em. I don’t work ‘em too ‘ard and I feeds ‘em on as many rats as I can find. Which is plenty.’

  Hunger overcoming him, Endrin started peeling a chestnuts, ‘Do you know where you sign on as a sailor?’

  The vendor scanned Endrin from head to foot, eyeing the bag.

  ‘You new in town?’ he said, ‘once I’ve sold this little lot, I’ll show you where to go if you like. Just you wait down that alley and have a chat with my mate for a bit.’ He whistled.

  Endrin looked round him. They stood on a corner. One direction led back to the cathedral and the other towards the long promenade along the riverbank. At the sun rose, the few slow wagons trundling goods were replaced by carriages and cabs which clattered past. More people appeared along the pavements. The shopkeepers came out to pull out blinds and arrange stalls. From the river came sounds of shouting and winches running. He hadn’t really noticed the narrow alleyways like slits between tall building, or rather he’d avoided them. At the whistle, a shadowy figure appeared at the entrance of one. Endrin stepped back, nearly into the gutter. He felt a horse shy just behind him and the curse of a cab driver as he swerved. He shook his head at the chestnut seller and started towards the river.

  Coming up from the embankment, a woman was approaching. She was tall and moved with a slight limp. She was also alone, there was no companion nor escort, and yet she didn’t look like the painted women he’d dodged the night before. She smiled at him and increased her pace.

  Endrin hesitated. There was something of the mountains about her, although he could sense no shadow dragon in the vicinity. Perhaps, like him, she no longer had one.

  ‘Are you looking for work, lad?’ said another voice behind him. Endrin turned to see a man in sailor’s clothes, smoking a pipe and swigging from a hip flask, ‘I know a ship what’s hiring. Sail the seas, see the world. You wanna come alonger me?’

  ‘I …’ said Endrin.

  The man grabbed his arm. The tall woman was limping faster.

  Endrin could hear another sound, a drum or something like a drum and a steady chant with some shouting behind it. The stranger’s grip loosened as they both turned. Maybe five woman were walking along an adjoining road holding up the traffic. Two carried a tattered banner made from an old sheet which read ‘Dairy Women’s Guild’. A boy walked with them, banging on an upturned metal tin with a spoon, while the women were calling out ‘Jobs not workhouse! Help not Judgment!’ They marched nearer. A crowd had gathered behind them, jeering. A cabby was goading his horse to push into the back of them and force them off the road.

  ‘Blooming women!’ said the man, tightening his grip on Endrin’s arm again, ’that’s one thing you don’t get at sea. Women. As many as you like for a few days in port and none at all for months on end. Bliss. Now you come with me and…’

  Two more men were approaching from the other side of the women, they raised their arms as if to catch Endrin’s attention. They wore bowler hats, smart gaberdine overcoats and stout shoes. Uncover police. Endrin felt as if the bag was calling out to them ‘thief thief’ and he blushed. He yanked his arm away from the sailor and just as the tall woman, limping, reached him, he turned to mingle with the marchers, out of everyone’s reach.

  A uniformed police officer, whistle blaring, truncheon waving rushed forwards and the marchers scattered. The boy threw down his makeshift drum, the banner fell under the hooves of the nervous, rearing horses and Endrin ran.

  And then a strap on his bag broke and it fell. Coins rolled, a battered pewter mug engraved with the letter D bounced and the velvet bag with his sisters’ toy crown fell into the gutter. Endrin dropped to the ground to pick everything up, his heart thudding, his eyes filling with tears and a heavy hand landed on each shoulder.

  ‘Endrin Drethic? We’ve been looking for you.’

  7

  Pursuit

  Dorissa and Menilly’s cab pulled up outside the cathedral a few moments later and finding no-one waiting for them, they made their way towards the river. There was nothing to show of the earlier disturbance. As they hurried, they didn’t notice a battered biscuit tin being crushed under the wheel of large carriage, its red and blue paint mired with mud or the shreds of an old sheet smeared with horse droppings.

  A chestnut seller stood on the pavement, prodding his shale dragons to make them blow hotter and putting more chestnuts on the brazier to roast along side ones which were now scorched beyond edibility.

  ‘Have you seen a boy this morning?’ said Dorissa.

  The chestnut seller looked her up and down and raised his eyebrows at Menilly’s divided skirts.

  ‘I’m only interested in people what buys chestnuts.’

  Menilly scowled into the brazier, paid over a penny but shook her head at the proffered bag.

  The man shrugged and said, ‘there was a boy what got soppy about shale dragons and a boy what nearly got run over by an ‘orse. Which do you want?’

  ‘Where did they go?’

  ‘Dunno. I think the police was after both of ‘em. But I reckon the boys was too quick. Might be wrong mind, I was too busy watching that woman get coshed.’

  He pointed towards the embankment where Evelira sat on a bench, holding her head, obscured by a man on either side.

  Dorissa held out another penny, ‘are you sure you saw nothing else?’

  The chestnut vendor licked his lips, staring at the money then looking round at the people walking past and standing in doorways and on corners. The shale dragons chittered. The clouds above them yellowed and snowflakes started to fall, blackening as they passed down through the smoky sky.

  ‘Nah, never saw nuffink. An’ I’m moving on now. Sales have dried up round here.’

  He tipped up the brazier and wheeled it away at speed, sparks flying and fizzling into the air.

  Menilly and Dorissa looked at each other then hurried towards Evelira. A sailor was pestering her with a hip flask and she was waving him away while talking to another man who appeared familiar to Menilly.

  ‘Mr Stinson!’ she said.

  Mr Stinson looked round and took the sisters in, staring at their features and raising his eyebrows.

  ‘There was a lad here earlier. He looked a little like you. Is he…’

  ‘I’m so sorry. He’s gone,’ interrupted Evelira, ‘there was nothing I could do. I was so close, but he was frightened and there was so much noise. Before I could tell him who I was, someone struck me down and when I came to, he’d gone. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I gather he is your brother,’ said Mr Stinson. ‘I was just too late. It was bedlam. I was on the other side of the road. I saw him run and Mi
ss er…’

  ‘Torlin. Miss Evelira Torlin.’

  ‘Miss Torlin ran after him and then he stopped and just as she got to him, a man clobbered her over the head. Then he and another man grabbed your brother and marched him off.’

  ‘Did you see where they went?’

  ‘Yes but then they were picked up. A carriage with curtained windows. It pulled up, bundled them in and went off at pace.’

  ‘Where are the police when you want them?’ said Dorissa, scowling.

  ‘The constable was distracted by the marchers and I had to look after your friend before this fool finished her off.’ The sailor took another swig from his hip flask, shrugged and walked away, staggering a little.

  ‘You?’

  Menilly remembered the business card. Pulling it from her bag, she read ‘R Stinson, Detective Inspector.’

  ‘I called for help as soon as it happened,’ he said, ‘I’ve been on the trail of those assailants for some time. My men are on the hunt. Now that you’re here and can get your friend to a doctor, I’ll join them in the search.’

  ‘I…’ said Evelira, ‘I can manage. I have a strong hat.’

  ‘You’re not searching for my brother without us,’ said Menilly, ‘but I just don’t understand why anyone would take him.’

  After a pause, Mr Stinson said, ‘I warned you about the city, remember. I’ll do everything to get him back.’

  Evelira sat up and ran her hand over her face. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Mr Stinson.’

  ‘You don’t know what I’m thinking at all,’ said Mr Stinson, ‘I don’t think it’s the usual thing. Did your brother have anything which might be of use to anyone? Miss er…’

  ‘Drethic,’ said Menilly, ‘but he had nothing of any interest to anyone. Just things from home. Old things. Nothing of value.’

  Evelira pulled something from her sleeve. It was a small velvet bag with something curved inside. ‘The strap on Endrin’s bag broke. It’s why he stopped running. Things fell out. If that hadn’t happened, he’d have outrun everyone. He stopped to pick the things up. They didn’t look like much, a few old coins, a battered old mug. He was reaching down to pick them up and I was so close I could almost touch him and then everything went dark. When I came to, he’d gone, the bag had gone but the coins and mug were still there and when I got up, I found this underneath me.’

  Snow was falling heavier. It landed in small grey drifts and fizzled on the invisible shadow dragons. Dorissa took the bag from Evelira and opened it. She took out a small coronet, bent slightly out of shape, its metal tarnished. Grubby stones adorned its frame, entwined with tiny metal leaves, some of which were missing. The largest stone was a grimy red and eight others, completing the circle were a dirty white.

  A carriage pulled up alongside them and the door opened.

  ‘Ah, you’ve found it,’ said Mr Berenger, ‘I think you’d better all come with me so that I can look at it properly.’

  ‘It’s just rubbish, Mr Beringer,’ said Dorissa, ‘but my brother has been taken, we need to go after him. We can’t come with you…’

  ‘Oh I think you can. All of you. I don’t really want you, Mr Stinson, but I daresay under the circumstances it’s better to take you now and deal with you later. If you look around you, there three men with pistols very close by and a certain sailor with a knife who is much less drunk than you’d thought. So you can come with me now or you can die here on the pavement. Whichever you prefer. Although I imagine making a mess of the embankment would not be approved of. Now let’s be friends and take a ride together. A family reunion is in order I think. I believe it has been some time since you saw your brother, Miss Dora Drethic. And I must say, he is very eager to meet you again.’

  8

  The Dungeon

  The carriage rattled over the roads. Snow slushed under the wheels and everything sounded muffled, as if the snow was falling heavier, but they could see nothing. Even if the curtains had been drawn it would have made no difference, since they were all blindfolded, gagged and their hands bound. Mr Stinson had been laid out cold as soon as the two stout-booted men, their revolvers pressed into his back, had bundled him into the carriage.

  After a while, the sound of the wheels changed to clattering and the carriage bounced. Cobbles. They came to a stop and Menilly could hear the coachman speak to someone and a barrier rise. Then they clattered again.

  Even behind the blindfold and behind the curtains, she became aware that it was getting darker and could feel the carriage slow, the horses bracing, the brake screeching as they descended. They were no longer outside. Everything echoed. She heard Mr Stinson groan and his head, which had lain so still against her leg, started to move.

  ‘Shall I put him under again, sir?’ said a voice she didn’t recognise.

  She tried to say ‘no!’ but the gag made her choke.

  ‘Are you fond of him, Miss Menilly?’ said Mr Beringer’s voice, ‘how very sweet.’

  She tried another sound in denial and gave up, but she was glad that no-one did anything to Mr Stinson and he continued to come round. She touched his head with her bound hands, running her little finger through his hair to try and quieten him. She wondered where the shadow dragons were. They had flown off into the snow as they were bundled into the carriage and she had lost track of their presence since.

  After a few more minutes, the carriage stopped. She heard Mr Beringer climb out and speak to someone whose responses were too low to make out.

  ‘Is he? Good. What about them, are they showing any signs of recognition? … Ah. Interesting. Well, we’ll see what we will see. Have you readied the lanterns? … Excellent. Well let us begin. Perhaps we’ll bring everyone in together. Mr Stinson is a well-built young man. I dare say he will be very welcome shortly.’

  He laughed.

  Menilly heard keys in a lock. They sounded large and heavy. Turning them seemed to be difficult. There was a creak of hinges and the scraping of a door dragging on a stone floor.

  ‘Come along now,’ said Mr Beringer.

  Menilly felt Mr Stinson move as he was lifted away from her and then a hand came up under her elbow and steered her out of the carriage. She could hear her own feet, in their sensible mountain boots clack, clack on the uneven stones and she could hear the others in their softer town shoes shuffle ahead of her. She stumbled, but her minder held her up. Behind her, the heavy door swung to and was locked.

  A sudden flare glowed through the blindfold suggesting that the lanterns had been lit. She could hear another sound. Shuffling, low moans, huffing. She frowned. It couldn’t be?

  ‘I think you can safely remove the restraints now,’ said Mr Beringer, ‘it’s hardly as if they can go anywhere. Apart from Mr Stinson of course. You can leave him bound. Unless of course, they prefer him otherwise.’ He laughed again.

  Someone was untying her blindfold. She heard a gasp then a sob. Someone ran across the stone floor and flung his arms round her. Someone else uncovered her eyes and she blinked in the light, looking down on Endrin’s head, buried in her chest, his shoulders jerking as he cried. One of the booted men untied her hands and she embraced her brother, then looked around the windowless, stone room, until she saw Dorissa watching, rubbing her eyes. Without a pause, she held out her arm and beckoned her over until the three of them stood together, wavering on unsteady feet in the darkness. ‘Menilly, I…’

  ‘Dorissa, we both…’

  Under the floor of the room, she could hear running water. She could see a trapdoor in the middle of the floor. Presumably they were above the river and in ancient days, this was where prisoners had been brought… and disposed of.

  She heard Evelira gasp and lifted her head, blinking.

  Stepping out from the shadows of the back of the dungeon were four enormous dragons. Sky-riders. They could not stretch upwards and there was no room to flex their wings. The nearest reached out towards her with its snout, staring with amber f
lecked unblinking eyes. She could have touched the scales but did not. It breathed out with a hint of steam and lifted a shackled foot.

  ‘But I thought the last of them was dead,’ whispered Evelira, ‘I was there. I was riding him when he was shot down.’

  ‘Oh I had already collected the eggs containing these fine fellows well before I arranged for the remainder and their parents to be destroyed,’ said Mr Beringer,

  ‘You destroyed them?’ said Dorissa.

  ‘Well, not personally, you understand, but I need to have utter loyalty and that required their having no knowledge of any family but me.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Power, my dear Miss Drethic, or may I call you Dora?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh I think I shall. I have grown very fond of you my dear, I have great hopes of our ruling together.’

  ‘Ruling? Ruling what?’

  ‘The country. The Empire. The Queen is not fit to rule. Someone else must take control. I have great plans for this realm, Dora, great plans. All I need is the power and invincibility of these beasts behind me and the dragon people will rise up and follow after.’

  9

  The Bride and her Maids

  ‘Why would they?’ said Menilly, ‘the dragon people are scattered and have been intermarrying for generations. Why would they follow you?’

  ‘They would follow their own queen.’

  ‘There is no dragon queen. The line died out hundreds of years ago.’

  Mr Beringer’s laugh rang out again. He put his arm round Dorissa’s waist and pulled her towards him.

  ‘No, it did not. I have waited so long for you to unravel that ancient text, Dora. I had traced your bloodline back a long time before you left the mountains for the city. I knew who you were, who your mother was. A little word in your ear from my agents and your dissatisfaction grew until you ran away.’