The Sensaurum and the Lexis

by Richard Dee

  Jessamine joined in. “As well as from purchase of the journal itself.”

  “And I get a good cup of Char,” finished the man. “That’s very clever; I can see that there is a gap in the market. There must be so many enterprises that I have not heard of, so much that I might be persuaded to sample. And I can learn of them, simply by reading an article that interests me. Your new father-in-law is a very clever man.”

  “Indeed, as well as gaining my lovely wife, I can see a purpose in my life at last. I’m sure there will be merchants and journals in Hammerham that we can pester with our ideas, between sampling the delights of the area.”

  “You must not work every day,” said the man, “you are supposed to be on your holidays.”

  “I will not let him spend all his time on that,” Jessamine replied with a laugh. “While there are none as passionate as the converted, I have inducements of my own for him.”

  They had hoped to discuss their plan of action; the presence of this man had made that impossible. They would have to decide what to do when they were alone. At least they had saved a day or more and would be able to start their covert operations that very night.

  If flying was nothing much to be excited about, Jackson realised as they started to descend, landing might be another matter.

  The speed reduced and Jackson could feel the plane start to lift from level into an attitude with the front higher. He wondered if that was normal, he wished that he had had more time to study the guide. Looking across he could see that Jessamine was unconcerned, as were the other passengers. They carried on their conversations and sipped at their drinks. He was thirsty, thanks to the clumsy actions of the attendant, he had never received one.

  “We are about to land,” the uniformed woman passed along the cabin. “Please finish your drinks and put the glasses in the holders on the deck,” she said to each in turn. She bent over in front of Jackson to retrieve an object on the floor, her uniform gown stretching tight inches from his face. Jackson heard Jessamine mutter something under her breath.

  When she was vertical again, Jackson asked her the question that was uppermost. “Excuse me, why do we now fly with our head higher?”

  “Well,” she smiled, altering her pose slightly, pushing one hip out towards him so that she showed off her body. “I do like a man who takes an interest. It’s to increase the efficiency of the wing at lower speed. We land into the wind as well, meaning that we stop quicker.” She turned and walked to her seat.

  Jackson had been intent on her answer, now he saw that they were level with the treetops. The engine noise suddenly ceased and with a bounce, they were on the ground. Jackson let out a breath, it was alright, he had survived. Then the engine noise increased to a howl, surely that was abnormal. Jessamine saw his face. “The engines have been reversed,” she said, “to stop us.”

  As they left, the woman was there again. “If you need any more questions answering, here is my address.” She handed him a small card. Jessamine took it from her.

  “He is with me, thank you so much,” she snarled, tearing it to pieces and dropping it on the ground. They exited the plane in silence. Halfway to the building, Jackson could take it no longer.

  “Why do women act so with me? I can tell that you are angry, so am I. They seem obsessed with innuendo and flirting, yet I do nothing to encourage them.”

  She laughed. “You poor boy, I’m not angry with you but with her. The trouble is, you do not realise how handsome you look, women of a certain sort are never content with what they have and will try and attract a male such as you, it’s in their nature.”

  Jackson then thought of Capricia, had it really been a game, as she had suggested? He considered for a moment then decided it might be best not to raise the matter.

  “You do not,” he said. “Their behaviour makes me feel uncomfortable.”

  Jessamine had no answer for that; she looked away so that he could not see her expression. Jessamine was silent as they took an omnibus into the centre of the town; fortunately there was space for them to sit apart from their new friend. On the way, they passed by a tall wall, that seemed to go on for ever.

  “That is the wall of Nethersole’s estate,” Jessamine whispered as huge gates in an arch with a building over it came into view. “We will not be going in that way.”

  “That was an interesting journey,” said Jackson. “Apart from the novelty of flight, I soon forgot that I was in a metal box in the air. Between us though, we managed to get a lot of intelligence from the Watchman. And I managed to justify poking my nose into local matters, asking questions.”

  “We will have no friends in Hammerham, nowhere to be safe and nobody to trust,” she replied. “Rodney has cleverly ingratiated himself and made all allies.”

  “Then we will have to rely on each other. And that talk of Winstanley, being a farmer. If Winifred says he’s a thug, I’ll take her opinion over anyone’s.”

  The omnibus stopped by an inn, called the Nethersole Arms. The shops and businesses all reflected his presence, there was a Nethersole Trading Company, Nethersole’s general supplies and Winstanley’s butchers all clustered around the square.

  “Rooms may be had here,” said the driver as they alighted and took their bags from the rack.

  “I bid you good day,” said the Watchman, “and hope your stay is pleasant and fruitful.” He shook their hands. “If you need aught, mention that you are friends of Silas Mountmain, people know me and will aid you.”

  “This place is too obvious,” said Jessamine. “We will lodge at another, quieter establishment, where we can come and go without being noticed. Perhaps one closer to the wall.”

  “I agree,” said Jackson. “We would be best finding an inn that was not so much in thrall to him. There must be some in the town who do not like him, we just have to find them and bend them to our purpose.”

  “While never trusting them?”

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter 20

  Taking their cases, they left the market square and plunged into the backstreets. After wandering for a while, they found a small ale house, rejoicing in the name of the Lost Quarry. The sign had a vulpine tail disappearing into a burrow and two canines with annoyed faces.

  “A room?” said the barman. “In my place? What’s wrong with the Nethersole Arms?”

  “We want seclusion,” said Jessamine and the man smiled.

  He turned to Jackson. “Lucky man,” he said. “I have a room in the eaves, quiet and secluded, you will hear no raucous singing from the bar of an evening, likewise you may make as much noise as you wish and we will not notice.”

  They were shown up to the room and once the door was closed, Jessamine dissolved in laughter. “The innkeeper thinks we are on a tryst,” she said. “We will get no disturbance.”

  The room was sparsely furnished but had a tiny washroom attached, a small window led out to a sloping roof of baked tiles. “Perfect, we can come and go with the door locked. No-one will be the wiser; they will not expect to see us anyway, though I would not be surprised if they do not listen at the door.”

  They laid out their possessions. “We will need dark clothes to blend in,” said Jessamine taking her case and heading for the bathroom. Jackson changed into what he thought of as his exploring clothes, the ones he had worn at the factory. Jessamine reappeared dressed in the tight trousers and a fitted blouse. “Now we wait,” she said, “we may as well get some rest.”

  “But there is only the one bed.” Jackson eyed it nervously; it was certainly big enough for two.

  Jessamine laughed. “You’re safe enough with me, safer than you would be with that woman from the Aero. If you are that worried for your honour, roll the counterpane and lay it between us.”

  Jackson was too embarrassed to comply, instead he lay down as close to the edge and opposite side to Jessamine as he could. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, his mind was buzzing with all the new sensations he had experienced, even on this day. The
next thing he knew he was dreaming.

  He was with his mother and she was holding him close.

  He woke, he was laid on his side, Jessamine was snuggled into his back, her form fitting against his, one arm draped over his chest. As she breathed, her hot breath blew hairs against his ear, tickling him. He moved and she woke.

  She pulled away quickly. “Pardon me,” she said. “I was sleeping and knew not what I was doing.”

  “It’s nothing,” said Jackson, then he realised how it sounded. “I don’t mean it like that,” he hastily added. “I was dreaming of my mother holding me, I hadn’t thought of her for a long time.”

  “We must be professional,” she added, she had also gone red. “It’s getting dark, we should prepare to go and explore.”

  “Should we not eat?” Jackson was by now famished; his stomach was protesting the lack of sustenance provided by his mouth.

  “Of course, I remember that your meal ended up on the floor. We don’t want to appear in the inn though, it may be that we are seen by someone who should not know of us. Maybe there will be a place to get some food on our way to the estate.”

  They secured the door by moving the cupboard against it and exited via the window, crossing the tiles one by one and descending down the rain pipe. On the ground, Jessamine turned around, while she got her bearings. “The main road is over there,” she said. “We can run parallel to it until we reach the edge of town, then continue on our way once we are clear of habitation.”

  “Never mind that,” Jackson said, pointing the opposite way. “I can smell food, in that direction.”

  “Very well then, a quick diversion to satisfy your stomach. We have much to do, we will eat as we walk.”

  They followed his nose and came upon a stand selling sandwiches of thick bread and cooked cuts of porker, with golden butter and a sauce of tomato, onion and pepper. They were beautiful to see and very reasonably priced. Jessamine purchased them, with money taken from her quip-belt. Jackson felt for his, to pay his share. It was not around his waist.

  With a start, he realised that it was still in the room. They would have to go back for it. Jessamine should be told, although it meant admitting his mistake. The prospect of her ire frightened him, especially as time was short to achieve their aim.

  In the event, he decided to keep quiet, at least his pack was on his back, gloves in his pocket. That would have to be sufficient. He was still unsure about what was in all the pockets of the belt, events having moved so fast that there hadn’t been the opportunity to explore it properly. It was on the bed, or in his case. It would await his return, as long as none of its supplies were needed.

  There was a group around the stand, drinking and eating. They were civil but engrossed in their own conversations, after greetings, they went back to their discussions of farming and ale. No questions came their way about their purpose. The food purchased, they retraced their steps and set out once more for the estate, eating as they went.

  The town was quiet; even so, they kept to the shadows as they walked to the estate. The night was clear and warm, with a few clouds and a low moon. There was no traffic along the road, apart from the few people that were at the food stand the streets were deserted; although every inn that they passed appeared to be full. Once they were clear of the last buildings, they were alone. They did not even see any Watchmen on their rounds. After a short while, they came to the point where the wall, cutting across country, formed a corner as it turned to run alongside the road. There was a sign that said, ‘To the Falls’, with a track leading through woods.

  “Which way shall we go?” whispered Jackson. “The gate will be

  well guarded, it might be better to mount the wall from down there.”

  Jessamine thought for a moment, remembering the arched gates and the glimpse of the road leading deeper into the estate. “If the falls are as popular as suggested,” she said, “there may be revellers returning, we should go past the gate where it might be less travelled. Our point of entry should be away from any road and the gatehouse, we have no information on the layout of the estate, we need to be close to the roadway once inside.”

  They ignored the wall and path leading away in the darkness and instead continued onwards, eventually they could hear the sounds of merriment carried on the still night air from the building at the gates. Lights burned bright around the entrance, throwing shadows across the road. They crept closer, the windows on each side of the huge gates were dark, all the noise was coming from those on the top of the arch. There was singing and a badly played harmonium, hunting songs by the sound of it. Behind the gates, the road stretched away, white against the ground.

  “They relax, thinking themselves secure, that we cannot get in,” laughed Jessamine as they passed the lodge and came to the place where the wall started to curve away from the road again. A further fifty yards and they came upon a shadowed spot where trees grew close to the wall.

  “Here will do,” Jessamine said. “We are sheltered from the road; it sounds like the people in the lodge are past caring.”

  It was the work of a moment for them both to don their gloves, climb the wall and drop to the ground inside the estate. There was an expanse of treeless manicured grass, bisected by a road which led from the gate to what appeared to be another wall. Beside it, the upper works of a building loomed in the darkness. The grounds were in darkness, it was impossible to see the main house that they knew the estate contained. “Let’s get across the open ground as quickly as we can,” said Jessamine as she set off. Remembering his training, Jackson counted to ten and followed her.

  They crossed the grass without incident or detection towards the first of the shadowy shapes. It proved to be a long low building, windowless and with a door secured by a heavy padlock. The wall they had seen was at its rear, further away than they had realised. Looking back, they could see the lights in the gatehouse. There was a faint odour in the air, Jackson could not place it, it was so unlike any city smell. They moved along the long side of the building, away from the door.

  “Can you smell that?” he asked.

  “It’s the smell of the farmyard,” said Jessamine. “Maybe it’s the porkers that Silas mentioned.”

  “Inside the estate? I would have expected them to be in a separate place.”

  At the rear of the building was a wooden fence, with churned earth beyond. The fence ended at the side of the building, where there was another entrance, this one was open. The place must be connected to the husbandry. The smell was stronger here.

  They heard voices and shrank back. There was the squeak of a badly oiled wheel. Two men were talking, just out of view inside the building.

  “Here’s another poor wretch,” said one, “on their last journey.”

  “Come and get it, boys,” called the other.

  A herd of porkers, rough beasts of the forest, unlike the domestic porker in every way, suddenly rushed out of the darkness and clustered around.

  “Another one gone. Was this during the cutting or after? Will the Professor ever get it right?” wondered the first voice.

  “He gets more to live than die than he used to,” said the second. “Although some still seem unable to cope with that thing what he puts in them. They go raving mad. That’s the worst bit, seeing them recover and still having to kill them. Anyways, if this herd had no food from us, what would they do?” Jackson peered around the corner and saw the edge of a trolley, it tipped and a bundle fell into the waiting porkers, who fought over its contents.

  Jackson felt sick. He turned away, desperately trying to control his stomach.

  The porkers had finished and must have caught the scent of them, as a pack they turned and made for where they hid. “Where are they off to?” said one of the men.

  “Must be a vulpine or some other scavenger, caught the smell of fresh blood.”

  “They’re too late.” There was laughter as they wheeled the squeaking trolley back inside and closed the doors.


  Jackson and Jessamine retreated and returned to the shadow of the wall. “That must be the medical building,” said Jessamine. “Aldithley is carrying on his experiments here, on people supplied by Winstanley. His mistakes are fodder for the porkers.”

  “We have to get away, tell Langdon. This is a matter past us now, the Watch needs to get involved.”

  “Do you think that we can we go to that Silas?”

  “I think not, after his glowing words of support for this man?”

  “But surely, the Watch are incorruptible.”

  “Jackson, you have so much to learn, maybe in the city they are; out in the countryside, they move with the mood of the inhabitants. A man like Rodney will not make a fuss in his own nest; his behaviour hereabouts will appear to be impeccable.”

  “There must be more to see. If we are to make a case to Sir Mortimer, we need more. Come on.”

  They kept to the wall and soon the porkers were behind them. To the left was a gap, with the dark shape of a large house. To the right, another wall.

  “There is a choice here, which should we investigate first?”

  “I think the house; we need to see no more porkers eating the corpses of the unfortunate.”

  There was a sudden burst of light; the bulk of the front of the house was extravagantly lit by floodlights. If they had been closer they would have been visible to any who were looking.

  “We cannot get past the floodlights. Why is it lit so much? Rodney must use a prodigious amount of gas.”

  “There is no supply here. He might get it from the porkers; they produce a flammable gas in their wastes. We should get into the shadows; I suspect the lights have been put on for a reason.”

  They moved around to the side of the building, it was only lit from the front, as to show to anyone approaching from the main gate.

  There was a noise, a fleet of mobiles were passing under the arch and coming down the road towards them. In front was a charabanc, behind it a luxurious mobile and then two open-topped lorries. The charabanc turned off and stopped in front of a door in the second wall, followed by the lorries, while the mobile continued on, stopping outside the house. They saw Rodney disembark from it and walk up the steps accompanied by a female, the others disgorged men in drab grey uniforms, who escorted the people from the charabanc in to a door in the wall. The Professor was behind the marching group, carrying a box on his chest.