by Chrys Cymri
The sun lowered as I pulled out one fewmet at a time. An hour in, I paused to apply more sun lotion. Flies buzzed around my legs, and I slapped them away. The top layer of dragon dung was now spread out across the ground, and I still hadn’t found the knife. Had I missed it? Or had Tyra brought me to the wrong place?
A dragon flew into view. I watched as he hovered over a midden, his wings pounding furiously to hold him in place. Then a vent opened near his tail, and fewmets dropped onto the existing pile. Several rolled away to the base of heap.
Of course, the newest ones wouldn’t only be on the top. I walked around the edges of Tyra’s mound. And there, glinting in a mix of excrement and fur, was the knife.
I turned the shovel on its side, and carefully dug away as much of the fewmet as I could. The knife fell away. More dragon dropping than I’d liked still clung to the handle. I studied the problem for a moment. Then, with a deep sigh, I put down the shovel and forced myself to pick up the knife.
The midden area was just above a beach. I picked my way across the jagged lava field and onto the black sand. My shoes were all but destroyed by sharp rocks and dragon dung anyway, so I walked from soft to hard sand and into the small waves sweeping up the shore.
The water was warm. I quickly waded in deeper. Fish swam away from my legs and, to my surprise, a small penguin zipped past. I lowered the knife into the ocean and swished it around. As the fewmet softened, I used my fingers to free the metal.
When the handle looked reasonably clean, I reluctantly returned to the shore. A sea lion followed me in, his eyes reminding me of a doleful puppy. I could only hope that Tyra wouldn’t see him as an early evening snack. There could still be dung inside the pocketknife, but I didn’t dare open the blade. I had no desire to call Raven to my side.
My trainers were definitely ruined. The shoes squelched as I walked back up to my clothes. I used my fleece to dry myself off as well as I could, and then pulled on my shirt and trousers. For a moment I debated what to do about the knife. I dug around the pockets of my coat, and found an old sandwich bag.
‘Finished, Father Penny?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ I dumped cheese crumbs from the plastic bag, and dropped the knife inside. ‘Actually, no, no thanks to you. You owe me one. So take me to my vicarage in England.’
‘Why?’
‘So I can have a proper shower and pick up another pair of shoes.’ I glared at her. ‘It’s the least you can do.’
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The shower was cold, of course, since I’d not left the water heater on. But it was still better than a small bathtub in front of a fire or waiting until the bathhouse opened. I took my shoes out to the wheelie bin, and collected a pair from my wardrobe. As I looked around the vicarage, I had to resist turning on the computer to check my emails and Facebook. Tyra was wandering restlessly through the back garden, and if I waited too long she might take off without me.
It was well past midnight when I was dropped back to the Caer-grawnt rectory. I somehow found the grace to thank Tyra. Then I quickly went inside. The frosty air was freezing my wet hair to my head.
Flames from the fireplace cast light over the lounge. Morey was curled up on a rug near the hearth, Clyde resting between his legs. James was snoring on one settee, blankets rucked around him. Another pile of pillows and blankets waited for me on the other sofa, my pyjamas resting on top. I smiled at their kindness. As quietly as I could, I changed, and I crawled under the covers. I turned several times, trying to find a comfortable spot. Then I fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘What’s that smell?’
I smiled at James over my mug. ‘And good morning to you, too.’
‘Seriously, did Clyde drag one of his kills into the kitchen?’ James turned to Morey, who was standing on the window sill, staring out into the back garden. ‘Come on, Morey, haven’t you noticed?’
‘I don’t have that great a sense of smell.’
James ambled over to gryphon. ‘I thought cats did.’
‘My front half is falcon,’ Morey reminded him. ‘Black, you might want to have a look.’
‘What are those things?’ James asked him, pointing outside.
A dozen small white bodies were sitting on the rabbit hutch. As I watched another two landed beside them. Gossamer wings disappeared into their furry coats. ‘Lemmings,’ I said, and sighed.
Clyde looked up from the bloody remains of his breakfast. I couldn’t hear what he said, but his body pulsed blue and green, then pink. The lemmings shuffled excitedly, their claws scrabbling for purchase on the sloped roof.
‘That might solve the feeding problem,’ Morey told me. ‘Clyde can eat them instead of rabbits.’
‘Not going to happen,’ I declared. ‘The lemmings are intelligent. They can talk.’
‘So can pigs,’ Morey said. ‘And you eat them.’
James chuckled. ‘Come on, pigs can’t talk.’
‘Lloegyr pigs do.’ Morey shrugged. ‘They’re slaughtered around six months old, before they can speak more than a few words. Butchers say that “Mommy!” is the last thing they squeal.’
James paled. ‘Do all the animals on this world talk?’
‘All animals talk,’ Morey said. ‘It’s just most of them don’t speak a language you can understand.’
‘Excuse me.’ James started to walk, but was running by the time he reached the lounge. I listened to him pound up the stairs to the toilet. The remains of his bacon sandwich rested on a plate.
‘Cruel, Morey.’
‘Not cruel. Simply the truth.’
‘But you kill animals.’
‘I have to. I don’t have a choice. I can’t survive on plants.’
Water gurgled as the toilet was flushed. I dumped the remains of my brother’s breakfast into the bin. ‘I’ll tell the congregation to stop bringing bacon.’
Morey leaned over and sniffed at my face. ‘James is right, though. There is a strange smell. I don’t know where you’ve been, but I suggest you visit the bath house.’
I winced. ‘All right, but it’ll have to be this afternoon. Aislin’s finally agreed to let me visit her.’
‘Don’t wear your best trousers.’
I headed upstairs to change. The loo was empty, so I assumed that James had retired to his room. At least he had cleaned up any remaining mess. My bedroom faced the back of the house, and I looked out in time to see another group of lemmings arrive. How had they found Clyde? And, more importantly, how was I going to get rid of them?
Aislin lived on the other side of the town. I passed the school, the bath house, the work institute, and several factory buildings before reaching her detached house. A front garden, tidier than I’d expected, spread green bushes and bright flowers around the dark brick walls. The front door had been painted a bright orange, and tall windows were set in either side. The churchwarden, I realised, must either be independently wealthy or hold a high position in Lord Willis’s company.
I knocked on the door, and waited with some trepidation. My welcome was far from assured. I had gained the distinct impression that Aislin had been very reluctant to accept my offer of a visit.
The harpy opened the door about a minute later. ‘Father Penny.’ Her tone, like her grey smock, was neutral. ‘Come in.’
I tried not to gape at the large entrance hall, tastefully decorated with white wallpaper. She escorted me into a warm lounge. Sofas and chairs, upholstered in a mixture of pastel fabrics, huddled around the open fireplace. The warmth wrapped around me, and I bit back a surge of envy.
‘Now, Father Penny, I--’ She stopped. I was standing awkwardly by one settee, waiting to be invited to sit down. A smile suddenly transformed her jagged face. ‘Where did you get that delightful scent you’re wearing?’
My brain scrambled for a polite answer. I had no idea what the search dragon’s domain was called, so I decided to use the Earth equivalent. ‘It’s from the Galapagos Islands. I picked it up on a recent visit.�
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‘Do please bring some back for me, next time you’re there.’ She swept a tattered wing at the nearest sofa. ‘Please, take a seat. May I offer you some tea? I have some Earl Grey in the pantry.’
‘That’d be fine.’ I sank down into the soft cushions.
‘Make yourself at home. This week’s paper is in the rack.’
I was happy for any excuse to remain in a well heated house. The newspaper was long and thin. The typeface reminded me of Victorian papers I’d seen in museums, all the same and set out in four columns across the page. No illustrations or adverts. I learned that the pottery factory had broken all production records, and that the Institute had been given dragon sized books ‘by our esteemed patron, Lord Willis.’
The rattle of porcelain told me that Aislin had returned. The tray was carefully balanced across her wings. She lowered it onto a table, and ran a talon through the pot to pour tea into the oversized cups. I had to use both hands to raise mine. Aislin took a seat. ‘That truly is a delightful scent, Father Penny.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘And thank you for the tea.’
‘Not at all.’ She stretched out a foot, and wrapped her talons around the remaining cup. ‘I hear you’ve met the headteacher of Caer-grawnt primary.’
‘I’m used to going into schools.’ Now that I was properly warm, I could smell the pong which James had mentioned. It seemed to be clinging to my hair. ‘Are there any local charities I should be involved with?’
‘There’s no need for those. Lord Willis takes care of all our needs.’ Aislin took a sip of tea. The dexterity required to lift the cup to her lips was impressive, and also revealed more of her anatomy than I’d wanted to see. ‘I must arrange for you to meet him.’
‘Really?’ I was desperately trying to keep my eyes on her face.
‘Yes. After all, he is our patron.’
‘He’s Saint George’s patron?’ Then I paused to cast my mind back to my appointment to Saint Wulfram’s. ‘Maybe that means something different over here. In England, the patron of a parish has the right to nominate a priest for that church.’
‘Same in Lloegyr.’
‘And usually the patron or a representative is on the interview panel.’
‘Which will be the case when we appoint a new ongoing incumbent.’
I swallowed some tea to wash down the bitter taste in my mouth. Unless something extraordinary happened, I was only here for three months. There was little reason for a patron to bother himself with a temporary appointment. ‘If he can make the time, I’m certain I’d enjoy meeting him.’
‘I’ll make the necessary arrangements.’
‘That’s wonderful. So, Aislin, what’s your role in Lord Willis’s company?’
By the time I left the house, the chief accountant of Lord Willis Holdings had given me her run down of the various businesses which he operated in Caer-grawnt. The turnover figures meant little to me, since I had no idea how to convert groats and galleons into pounds and pence. As I stood at the door, Aislin leaned in to take one last, long sniff of my hair. ‘Do remember me when you next visit the Galapagos perfumer.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I said. And I hurried up the road to the public bath house.
A were-badger took my copper coins and pointed the way to a private bath cubicle. A silver coin elicited a bar of soap and a towel. I hung my clothes on the door hook, and lowered myself into the steaming water. The soap smelled little better than I did, but I still used it to give my hair a thorough scrub.
Once I’d dried myself off and was back in my clothes, I wandered down the corridor to the public pool. As I’d expected, few were using the facility. Most of Caer-grawnt’s denizens were no doubt at work, and wouldn’t leave until the factory whistles blew at 6pm. A couple of dragons floated on the water, wings tucked in tight so that three dwarves could swim laps. The gold and blue tiles looked clean, and the red benches in the marble arches gleamed with new paint. I wondered if Lord Willis also paid for the upkeep of this establishment. Did he own everything in this factory town?
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‘There you go, kind sir,’ I said, placing two mugs of ale onto the table and sliding one across to Peter. ‘The Miner’s Dark, as requested.’
Peter took a careful sip. Then he grinned. ‘Very nice. And thank you.’
‘You deserve it. There’s no way James and I could have repaired the rabbit hutch on our own.’ I sighed. ‘I’m not tall enough.’
‘Not the way you’d hoped to spend your day off.’
‘No.’ I leaned back in my chair. ‘But I’m hoping the evening will make up for it.’
‘A nice pub, a good stout, and a beautiful woman,’ Peter said. ‘My evening’s made.’
I pretended to swat the compliment away. ‘I’ve told the lemmings that they have to stay off the roof. The hutch wasn’t designed to take the weight.’
‘And do you think they understood you?’
‘Hard to tell. But Clyde did, and I’m certain he’ll find a way to tell them off if they land there again.’
The pub was only half full, but it was early on a Friday evening. I wasn’t wearing my dog collar, of course, but one of the elves standing at the bar had given me a nod. The dark carpet, the wood-lined walls, and the slightly sweaty atmosphere reminded me of country pubs I’d visited in England. Except here the large area at the back was taken up by dragons, unicorns drank from bowls lined up on a low shelf, and a group of vampires were playing table top skittles.
‘But it’s going well?’ Peter asked. ‘The whole vicaring in Lloegyr thing?’
‘Very well.’ My beer was good, but I missed being able to buy crisps to nibble alongside. ‘I did my first school assembly yesterday. Three hundred kids. Little dragons are so cute.’
‘You and dragons,’ Peter teased. Then he frowned. ‘Three hundred? Is that all? The adult population is around six thousand, most of them working age. Why aren’t there more children at Caer-grawnt’s only primary school?’
‘I thought the same. I did try to ask the headteacher. She told me, “Not all parents can afford to send their young to school.”’
‘Isn’t the school free?’
‘Exactly. But the deputy interrupted us before I could find out what she meant.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m back next week. I’ll ask more then. And how’s the policing?’
‘Very quiet. Caer-grawnt has a very low crime rate. I caught a couple of were-badgers scrumping from a fruit shed, but otherwise it’s a lot of walking and smiling.’
‘You’re bored,’ I said, feeling guilty.
‘A bit.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll survive. It’s only for three months.’
I took a pull of beer, hiding my face behind my mug. ‘Hmm.’
‘Oh, there was an outbreak of graffiti. On several houses.’
My heart sank. ‘Couples in mixed species relationships? A red “W”?’
‘That’s it, I’m arresting you.’ Peter reached across the table and grasped my wrist. ‘On suspicion of being a vandal. Do I need to read you your rights?’
‘Ha ha ha.’ I turned my arm, and his hand slid into mine. ‘You do know what it is, don’t you?’
‘The symbol of Cadw ar Wahân. Yes, I know.’
‘Even here.’
‘But it’s only to be expected.’
‘Peter!’
His hand gave mine a reassuring squeeze. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, Penny. Love is love. What I meant is, you have so many species living in close proximity here, some were bound to match up, and there’d be tension.’
‘But they mix together so well.’
‘Really?’ Peter gave me a sad smile. ‘They live in separate neighbourhoods.’
‘But they need different sized houses.’
‘So why not find a way to put were or vampire houses next door to a dragon’s?’ He shook his head. ‘I think what’s holding this town together is having a common employer who makes sure they have comfortable lives.’
‘Lor
d Willis.’
‘That’s the one. He even pays the salary of the local bobby. He’s my employer too.’
‘Aislin, one my churchwardens,’ I said slowly, ‘she wants to introduce me to him.’
‘Do we even know what species he is?’ At my shake of the head, Peter added, ‘Then when you’ve met him, let me know. No one will tell me.’
‘Curiouser and curiouser.’ And then we changed the subject to which TV programme we were missing the most.
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I was putting on my robes when Aislin rushed into the vestry. ‘He’s here,’ she announced breathlessly.
‘Who’s here?’ I was mentally rehearsing what I’d learned from my first Sunday at Saint George’s. Morey would offer the Communion wafers by walking up and down the altar rail, and I’d follow with the chalice for the smaller congregants. Cadfan would have the large bowl for the dragons, unicorns, and gryphons.
‘Lord Willis.’ The harpy raised a foot to smooth down my chasuble, and I lifted my eyes to study the cross which hung above the door. ‘This is good. I’ll introduce him to you after the service.’
‘That’s fine.’ And I told myself firmly not to be nervous. Lord Willis would just be one of many in the congregation.
Aislin left, only to be replaced by Cadfan. ‘Good, you’re ready. The MICE sound system is in place.’
‘Great.’ I held out my hands for a microphone.
A small brown mouse was deposited into my hands. ‘Greetings,’ she said, her voice high and sweet. ‘Do you prefer left or right shoulder?’
‘Oh,’ I said, feeling stupid. ‘Mice system. Because you use mice.’
‘Of course,’ Cadfan said. ‘Similar principle to the rat kings. Your mouse will telepathically relay your words to the mouse king. He will in turn transmit to any mouse being used by a member of the congregation. The mouse speaks the words into their ears. Just make sure you tell your mouse to stop broadcasting when the service is over.’
‘No controversial sermons, please,’ the mouse added. ‘Annoyed clients sometimes eat their hearing mouse.’
