Benlunar - Episode 33
Lilian hurriedly prepares for a party.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
Lilian was holding her breath. She’d been holding the envelope in her hands for two minutes and in all that time, she had barely sighed. Her body was still but her mind was racing. What had just happened? She told herself, and she quickly scanned her surroundings to commit the exact moment to memory. She then cast her mind back to the stairwell up to her room. Nothing too interesting. But there was something. That man she had seen on the way to her door. He’d been smartly dressed, with a hat and a cane. Something strange about it. Lilian examined the image in her head from every angle. He’d had a small beard but there was something about his cane that was blurry in Lilian mind. She’d been trying to remember it for the past thirty seconds but nothing was springing to mind. As far as she could tell, he was the only thing that was different about her journey home. He certainly stood out from the normal crowd on her road. Had he delivered the invitation? Lilian shook herself out of the loop. What did it matter who delivered it, here it was! And it could only be one thing. Lilian went to sit at her small writing desk in the corner under the window. The sky was still blue but little stars could be seen dotting the dusk. Lilian breathed a slow breath and jerked the invitation away from Fritha’s curious and wet nose. The envelope was pink and something had been done to the paper to make it shine, even in the low light of the evening Lilian could see a golden sheen glisten when the envelope was twisted. She paused before breaking the wax seal which was embossed with the head of a lynx in green wax. Should she wait for Mr Attorcop or Katherine to be present before opening it? She glanced at the green ink and the expert calligraphy on the front. It said Lilian Lausanne, top floor, 4th building on the left, Vulpes Road, Old Town, Freedos. Well, she thought, it is addressed to me…
Dear Miss Lausanne,
Your presence is cordially requested in the palace tomorrow evening for a night of frivolity and celebration. As is tradition I would like to apologise for the late notice, but you have been judged a perfect party guest by the lady of the house and we simply cannot celebrate without you. Please dress as your best festive self as befits the theme. This year, the ball is in the enchanted forest. Your friend, Empress Sylvia.
Lilian’s head was still spinning. She re read the invitation two more times and let her brain pick out every problem it could possibly come up with. Some people might call this a nervous breakdown, those people have never trained to fight against Cromwell Attorcop. Some problems had obvious solutions, the dress for example, she could make in the morning. Others, like what exactly an ‘enchanted forest’ was, were tougher to solve there and then. Lilian glanced out of the window and saw the sky had significantly darkened in the time she’d stood there reading. Should she visit Mr Attorcop now? Or was it too late? She wondered. She made up her mind in the same breath and grabbed her cloak to get ready to leave. She folded the invitation up and slotted it neatly back into its envelope. She wanted to hold onto it while walking so as to avoid it creasing in a bag or pocket. Lilian whistled for Fritha to get up off the bed, which she did so reluctantly and after a big yawn.
Moments later they were walking down the road towards where they had just come from. On their second corner they passed a group of young men standing outside an inn. Lilian clutched the invitation close to her chest and quickened her pace as she passed them. She thought she heard one of them say the word ‘letter’ but did not want to look back to check. Thankfully she was not followed to Mr Attorcop’s basement. He opened the trap door after she knocked on it and looked about cautiously before letting her down the steep steps.
“Is everything alright Lilian? It’s awfully late I…” Lilian did not let him finish speaking, she just held up the envelope out in front of her. Mr Attorcop paused. Then pointed. Then said.
“Is that?” To which Lilian nodded so quickly she risked spraining her neck. Mr Attorcop held out his hand, tentatively. Lilian handed it to him and watched him recede into the basement. Lilian followed him and waited at the bottom of the staircase, watching him read the invitation. He began to pace, as he always did when deep in thought. Lilian was waiting for a jump for joy, a celebration. But none came.
“Well!?” she asked, trying to induce some sort of cheer. Mr Attorcop looked back at her with a stern expression on his face.
“Hm? Oh yes! Very good. Excellent news.” Lilian narrowed her eyes.
“But?” She watched him walk towards a chair, grab the back of it and lower himself down. He thought there for a few seconds before speaking.
“Lilian. This world,” he waved the invitation, “this is like a game of chess. You understand? These are people with too much money and time on their hands to do anything else but play. This is great for our purposes of finding the blacksmith, but if I’m being honest I would rather we had stolen one.” Lilian cocked her head in confusion.
“Why?”
“Because this means you’ve been invited to play the game. And in chess, just like in politics, there are Queens, and there are pawns. I don’t want you running in there just to be a piece in someone else’s twisted tactics. If we had more time we could work out who sponsored you or suggested your name to the Empress, but we don’t. This…” He looked back at the pink and shimmering paper, “This is a dangerous key to a very dangerous world. Pieces get taken out in chess and it's usually the pawns that are the first to go.” Almost all of Lilian’s excitement at getting the letter had disappeared. Mr Attorcop was right. This was no small bit of luck. It was a calculated move. But as ever was the case with Lilian Lausanne, her optimism began to take over.
“If we know I’m there because someone else is using me, doesn’t that give me the advantage? I mean, I know what they want, but they don’t know I know. You know?” Mr Attorcop considered this.
“So if you subverted the expectation. Do things at parties that people don’t normally do. Barely speak to anyone and remain aloof while trying to find a quiet spot to search for the bell, then you just might be able to avoid anyone attempting to get to you.”
“Yes.” said Lilian, “Or I could just go and enjoy the party…” She trailed off. She wasn’t even convincing herself. “Fine.” She threw her hands up in the face of Mr Attorcop’s glare. “I’ll do what you said. But if someone talks to me I’m not going to just snub them. I don’t want to leave the ball after having offended everyone.” Mr Attorcop slapped his hands on his knees and hoisted himself up.
“Oh Lilian,” he said, “You have no idea.”
The next day started early. Lilian was up and ready to leave her room by the first sign of sun. Even Fritha protested against the early hour, rolling over on her rug and shutting her eyes when Lilain went to wake her. Soon the two of them were out in the fresh, cool air. Lilian was glad of the weather, by midday Freedos would be a melting pot of sweaty citizens and Lilian intended to get most of her work done in the relative coolness of the morning. She spoke to a linen dealer in the garment district just as he was unloading his cart. She bought a length of blue material and some white lace before stopping off at a small shop for sewing supplies. The sun had almost fully risen by the time she got back to her room and, just as the temperature grew, so did Lilian’s frustration. The glaring, garish light of midday was streaming in through Lilian's little window like molten metal into a blacksmith’s mold. Lilian pricked her finger for the sixth time and threw the entire blue mess onto the floor. She had roughly 8 hours to get ready and this pesky dress was supposed to be done by breakfast.
Lilian’s fury was suddenly interrupted by a timid knock at the door. Great, she thought, this is the last thing I need, Mr Attorcop running me through the plan. But when she opened the door it was Katherine who was standing on the other side.
“Just checking to see how you’re doing. I ran into Cromwell, he told me about tonight. Can I come in?” Lilian nodded and stood aside. “Dear gods, it’s like the twelve hells in here. What’s that?” She pointed to Lilian’s feeble attempt at dressmaking whilst fanning herself with her hand.
“I need a dress and I can’t afford a new one. Not when they’ve upped all their prices today.” Katherine looked at the crumpled pile of blue and shook her head.
“Lilian I love you but that is hideous.” Lilian laughed. It’s all she could do, given the circumstance. “Listen, let me take care of the dress. Just, be at this address at fourth bell and I’ll help you get ready.” Katherine quickly scrawled something onto a sheet and handed the paper to Lilian. “It’s near where we met the Catfish.”
“Isn’t this the house where you work?”
“Yep.” Katherine nodded and then seeing Lilian’s apprehensive expression, “It’s fine. The lady will be out. Now, you get out of this small oven before it cooks you. Look at Fritha.” She pointed to the hot looking Feinhound in the corner. Her fur was bright white and she was panting heavily. “She looks like she’s about to melt. Out, out!”
And for the second time that day, Lilian was outside. It was hotter now, but still cooler than her attic room. Not that that was hard. Katherine waved goodbye and Lilian began to walk towards the coolest place she could think of: Mr Attocop’s new underground home. Most people outside were sticking to the shadows of taller buildings. Several of them got out of her way when they saw Fritha in shining white walking towards them. Perhaps it was the heat but Lilian unfortunately missed the large hand springing out of the alleway and jerking her into it. Fritha continued on, deaf to Lilian’s gasp.
A quick glance up revealed Gus Deakon, Bried’s oversized thug. He said nothing but he did not take his hand off Lilian’s arm as he marched her down the alleyway. Lilian barely had time to get her bearings. One thought did spring up though, if Deakon is here, that means…
“Hello hayseed.” A cold voice cut through the heat. Deakon shoved Lilian forward so that she came face to face with Tazial Bried. She was only a little taller than her and in a proper fight, Lilian thought she might have stood a chance. That was if Deakon had not been there and Bried had two hands tied behind her back. Lilian gritted her teeth and said nothing.
“Not up for chatting? Good. That means I can do all the talking. You just get that silly hair out of your ears and listen to me. My sources say you’ve been very lucky recently and you’ve wangled yourself an invite to the big palace shindig tonight.” Lilian did not deny it, Bried was too clever for that. “Now here’s where it gets interesting. I would like to apologise for my behaviour the other night. My line of work makes it hard to trust strangers. But I like you Lilian. So I want to say sorry. And to sweeten the act, I would like to offer you 50 sovereigns for that invitation. How does that sound?” Lilian gulped and considered her options. Was she serious? Could she even be trusted to deliver on such a promise? Her mind quickly raced passed doubt and ran straight into the world of possibilities that would open up with that kind of money in her possession. She could get a new room. A cool room beside one of the rivers. Lilian’s conscience watched all of this and moved her to shake her head. The invitation was too valuable to risk. She would have to play her hand very carefully.
“Thank you for the apology, but I’m afraid I must offer apologies of my own. The invitation represents interests that exceed monetary value. I’m not ready to part with it.” There was a silence while Bried considered her words. Finally, she spoke in a voice so soft Lilian was worried she might have to slip into focus to hear her.
“Very well. But understand this hayseed, by not giving me what I want for a price that I think you’ll agree is well above its worth, you are effectively taking something away from me. Now I don’t know how things work in the countryside, maybe you deal exclusively in promises and buttercups, but here in the city that means you owe me. Understand?” Lilian instinctively looked for Fritha by her side, or for Mr Attorcop in the alley entrance. But neither of them appeared. So all Lilian could do was nod.
“Good. Well I’ll let you know what I need soon. Bye hayseed, enjoy the sunshine.”
Lilian did not mention the encounter to Mr Attorcop when she saw him. She had found Fritha wandering the fish market and dragged her to Mr Attorcop’s underground home. She had planned to tell him but as soon as she walked down the wooden steps he leapt into his plan for the evening, and the moment passed.
“I think you should avoid sitting down with anyone. There are likely to be seats and people will undoubtedly start sitting in groups. How did the dressmaking go?” Lilian shrugged and helped herself to the pitcher of clean water on the side table.
“I got too hot. Katherine said I should go to where she works and she’ll lend me a dress.” Mr Attorcop paused.
“A little risky don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well this is what I wanted to talk to you about. Tonight’s party is going to be one big political battlefield. Leaving a certain nobles house hours before the ball could be used as ammunition against you. In fact, anything that you say or do will be weighed and considered from every angle.”
“Oh nice,” said Lilian after almost spitting out her water, “As if this wasn’t enough pressure!” Mr Attorcop pointed an accusatory finger.
“You were the one who said she could do this. Lilian, it’s not too late to back out, I…”
“No it’s fine. I can do it, I’m just nervous. Dances, nobles, all this fancy stuff isn’t really my thing.” Mr Attorcop patted Fritha on the head and nodded in understanding.
“I know. And you will be fine. Think about it. All those conversations we had on the road here. That was your education and today is the final exam. And hey,” He snapped his fingers and Lilian looked up, “You can do it. Here’s how I see it. Imagine I ask you a question like, who was the first king to unite Alicium? You would say?” Lilian didn’t need to think for too long,
“King Leodin.”
“And what was he famous for wearing in battle?”
“Black armour.”
“Exactly. So if someone approaches you at the ball and makes a comment about somebody’s dark clothes, you could say?” Lilian paused for a few seconds with a quizzical look on her face. Mr Attorcop elaborated,
“Imagine that everything everyone says is an attempt to gain status. You need to either give them status by laughing at the joke, or you elevate your status by making your own. So if a man walks into the ball wearing a dark, dreary suit and you hear a comment about it you would say…” Lilian began to understand, although this was surely the quickest course in court etiquette there ever was. Nobles spent their lives refining these conversational skills, and here she was supposed to master it in a couple of hours?
“I could say, oh look it’s King Leodin.” Mr Attorcop scrunched up his face.
“Yes but, like you’re trying to make me laugh.” The pressure was mounting. Lilian threw her hands up in a huff. She took a breath and walked the situation through in her head.
Some noble has commented on somebody’s clothes. I want to show them I’m worth their time by saying an inoffensive comment that will create a bond. The riskier the joke, the more assumptions I’m making about my station. Lilian relaxed and said,
“Oh my, I didn’t realise King Leodin had such a small nose.” She threw in a fake gasp for good measure and looked at Mr Attorcop. He was sporting a weak smile.
“Yes that’s quite good. Nice touch on the small nose. That should get you a polite titter at the very least. But really, it’s probably best you wonder around trying to find somewhere quiet.” Lilian had actually quite liked her own joke and took some small solace that if all else fails, at least she could make herself laugh tonight.
“Now,” Mr Attorcop continued. “Just treat any conversation like a game where the aim is to be the cleverest, most humble, sweetest yet assertive person in the room.” Lilian did spit the water out this time.
“How am I supposed to do that?” Mr Attorcop smiled and Lilian sensed he was going to say something annoying.
“Practise.”
Lilian spent the rest of the day learning about the various nuances and verbal acrobatics one could use to different effects. There were apparently subtle ways one could determine if someone was of a higher social standing than you. This didn’t concern Lilian much at the time because everyone was of a higher social standing than her. But it was interesting. Just like learning about how questions can make people like you and how stories about yourself should always end in a joke at your expense. Lilian found herself fascinated by things she had taken for granted her whole life, but had never thought to use in such a way. It was like looking through magnifying lenses at the colours and detailing in a grain of sand. By the end of the afternoon her nerves had lessened and they made their way through the heat and crowds to Katherine’s place of work. It turned out that Katherine had been very busy. The children she governed were at a friend’s but the lady of the house was still there when they arrived. Lilian had almost bolted when she opened the door but Katherine assured her that the lady was kind and willing to help.
“Thank you, my lady.” Lilian bowed her head and did the customary curtsy to show appreciation.
“Dear Heart call me Lady Montidore. You are Lilian correct?” Lilian nodded. “And a Mr…?”
“Attorcop, My Lady.” Lady Montidore smiled,
“Well that’s quite enough formalities, shall we get ready for a ball?” She flashed perfectly pearl white teeth and bright blue eyes at Lilian. She was wearing a pink dress that was both elegant and functional as well as a small scarf wrapped and tied tightly around her neck.
“Come in, Come in, please mind the step. I’m afraid pets must stay in the boot room as I’ve just been cleaning and I’ve got people coming over tomorrow.” She led Fritha to a small room with a stone floor and an old pile of coats in the corner. It wasn’t much, but it did come with two bowls, one full of water and one full of chicken so Fritha didn’t seem to mind.
The next forty-five minutes were a whirlwind of dressing, walking and talking. The talking was mostly done by Lady Montidore who seemed as though, given the right incentive, could talk for several hours without stopping. Lilian had trouble focusing on all the details but apparently her husband worked in the banking district, she did a lot of charity work and Lilian didn’t have the right hair colour for brown. Whilst Katherine and the lady of the house debated which colour and dress style might work best, Lilian was instructed to bathe and brush her hair. Lilian was glad to escape the hubbub for a moment and gazed at the porcelain basin of steaming hot water. She brought out the small stick gifted to her by Mr Attorcop’s friend Katrina that she had remembered to bring with her. She crushed the end and watched an inch crumble into the water, dying it a vivid, sandy red. Lilian washed her hair in the now sweet smelling bath and after drying and brushing it, could swear that its colour had intensified somewhat.
Eventually the whirlwind outside the bathroom subsided and Lilian found herself walking up and down a large room with pink wallpaper in a dark green dress.
“Oh yes, I think that’s marvellous.” said Lady Montidore. Lilian looked at the dress in the large, floor length mirror. She barely recognised herself. The dress was many different shades of green, flowing down from light to dark. Small details in the stitching made the material look as though it was dotted with small leaves.
“It’s not quite this year’s fashion, more like about six years ago. But I think that works don’t you?” Katherine agreed.
“It’s classic but it matches the theme.” Lilian glanced over at a shelf high above her in. It contained an array of strange looking faces.
“Can I wear a mask?” she asked, pointing up.
“No.” Mr Attorcop was leaning on a chest of drawers in the corner. “Only boring people wear masks.” Lady Montidore nodded emphatically but still got up to go to the shelf.
“That’s true, however…” she paused for dramatic effect as she reached up and gently brought down a small and beautiful leather mask in the colours and shape of a rather fierce looking fox. Lilian’s face lit up. She watched as Katherine took it, cut it further down (with the Lady’s permission) and fashioned it into a headpiece with the help of some wispy green fabric and a few well placed pins. Lilian put it on and spun straight back to the mirror. The foxes ears framed her hair and the nose stuck out slightly above her eyes, effectively hiding her face. A mask, but not a mask. Lilian smiled at her reflection.
“I love it.”
With just one hour to spare Lilian was out of the door. The final adjustments had been made, the shoes had been chosen and Fritha had been bid a sleepy goodbye. Lilian was loath to leave her but she would not be allowed to enter the palace grounds. Lady Montidore and Katherine had waved her off and Mr Attorcop accompanied her to the palace gates. Lilian gripped the invitation tightly as she walked. Visions of Bried and nasty gossiping nobles were flashing through her mind with every step. Mr Attorcop began to run her through various scenarios.
“What do you do if you meet a Duke? How many women are on the council? Who is the Empress’s brother? How old is the palace?” Lilian was irritated at first, but once she started answering the questions, she felt her mind begin to calm. This was Mr Attorcop’s plan of course as he just noticed Lilian absent mindedly grinding her teeth. Something she did when she was nervous. He kept repeating to himself that she would be fine. There hadn’t been any real violence at one of these fancy parties in decades. The worst that can happen is that someone makes a social faux pas, and why should Lilian care about that? The questions ceased as the palace came into view. It was adorned with hundreds of coloured lanterns, green and pink and white mixed to make the castle feel like something out of a fairy tale. Lilian could not see beyond the wall but she could hear the sound of instruments coming from beyond. As they approached the gates, she saw the players welcoming the guests with music as they stepped beyond the threshold. The gate was heavily guarded but all guards were on their best behaviour. Lilian watched one guard bow as he took a woman’s invitation. She wondered if they would do the same for her.
“Very well. This is where I leave you. Best of luck.” Mr Attorcop stood to one side and awkwardly waited for Lilian to leave. She laughed and gave him a hug.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Yes. Quite. Just, be careful won’t you?” He said, awkwardly hugging her back. Lilian released him and nodded. “And if you see any noble that looks like he believes his own drivel, why don’t you knock him down a peg?” Lilian smiled and agreed. She began walking over to the gate and began to feel nervous. She handed the invitation over to the guard who did not bow but instead looked closely at the invitation and then back at Lilian. Just when Lilian began to think something was off he smiled and handed it back.
“Have a pleasant evening My Lady.” Lilian bowed her head and thanked him. She then took a deep breath and walked through the palace gate.
The court was lined with houses, Lilian had seen them from the rooftop but they looked far more impressive from street level. They were also festooned with the Empress’s colours along with green vines and branches sticking out of balconies. The whole court was made to feel like a forest in fact. Four musicians dressed as nymphs greeted the guests as they walked through the gates. Lilian made her way past them and into a makeshift forest with real trees that must have been transported for miles to get there. The evening's light dimmed as she entered the trees. Fortunately small, colourful flames guided the way through the towering pines and birches. Lilian’s second thought after how impressed she felt, was Fritha would love this.
Lilian navigated the maze of lights and leaves and after a while she began to hear laughter. She followed the sound until she turned a corner and the palace steps came into view. A pink carpet cascaded down the steps and a group of young women were huddled around something at their base. Lilian approached slowly and craned her neck to see a man with an enormous bird on his arm. It’s feathers were long and twitched with each of its quick movements. Its colours of gold and deep blue shone so brightly that they would have made Fritha jealous. It flapped its wings and let out a loud trumpet to the delight of the small crowd. Cute, thought Lilian, a herald bird to announce the guests. Whoever had planned this night had thought of everything. Lilian made her way up the steps. She kept her eyes low, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to herself. She felt a pang of regret at not having anyone to share the experience with, but looked forward to telling the story later. The palace doors were at least fifteen feet high. They were made of thick oak with iron bracings. The palace doubled as a fortress when the city was under threat and it was these doors that would be the final barrier between an invading army and the Empress. Thankfully the doors were wide open and Lilian held her breath as she stepped into the palace.
She was immediately greeted by a smiling server dressed in a leafy green waistcoat, he held out a tray of tall glasses each containing a different colour liquid. She grabbed the closest one, which happened to be peachy pink, and thanked him. Next came a woman handing out little bite sized biscuits each with a small bit of cheese and dried meat on top. Lilian hadn’t eaten all day but she resisted the urge to grab a handful. She took one and made her way into the main hall. Many of the guests had already arrived and so the enchanted forest was already teeming with life. There must have been over three hundred guests and each of them was wearing their own interpretation of the theme. Lilian saw a man dressed as a badger and three women wearing matching fairy wings. Lilian looked up the columns that were made to look like trees, at the ceiling. For a split second she wondered if the roof had been taken off. Hundreds of tiny lights dotted the darkness of the rafters giving the impression you were looking up at the night’s sky. There was even a giant and glowing moon, made by a clever combination of paper and fire lights. Lilian gasped and almost choked on her biscuit.
Two men were striding high above the crowd on stilts, they were dressed as fawns and were dropping leafy garlands on to the heads of the guests. Lilian watched them walk past a band who were expertly mimicking the sounds of a magical forest. Soft, tinkling notes were playing over the calming sound of rain. Lilian was in awe. This decadence, this display of wealth and means was almost too much for her to bear. Only that morning she had seen a man begging for bread on the corner of her street, she had apologised and admitted to not having any bread, and yet here she was, surrounded by more food than she could eat and more money than her teenage mind could conceive of. She shook off the feeling of not belonging and resolved to enjoy herself as best she could. Poverty in Freedos did need to be tackled, but there was not much she could do about it in this moment. She looked across the crowd and spied two younger looking guests dressed in fine gowns and suits with antlers sticking out of their heads. They seemed nice enough and were being left alone by the larger crowds and so Lilian decided to befriend them. Everyone was still in the main reception hall, so if she left to find a quiet spot now she might be seen. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, quickly ran through the names of all the leader’s of Freedos of the past century and made her way towards the man and the woman with the antlers.
She had just worked out the perfect opening line to introduce herself by when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder. Her heart almost stopped, this was it, she thought, the invitation had been delivered to the wrong address and she had been found out. She turned to see who the hand belonged to and came face to face with a man in a tall hat, pink coat and white jodhpurs. He was taller than Lilian, and smelt like the perfume shop that Lilian liked to walk past in Bonneville. He seemed familiar despite Lilian not being able to see his face due to it being half covered by a pink and gold mask, it was like a theatrical villain’s mask only much more ornate. Lilian had spotted several of these masks about the hall. The wearers all seemed sullen and distant from the rest of the guests. Security? Thought Lilian.
“Excuse me, miss Lausanne?” Lilian was still too nervous to speak, so she nodded in reply.
“If you’ll come with me please.” His voice was thick and sweet like treacle and Lilian found herself following him before having a chance to question what she was doing. She assumed this man, whoever he was, was used to getting people to do things for him. He turned and began walking away from her, Lilian noticed that he walked with the aid of an elegant cane, although he didn’t seem to be putting much weight on it. She followed him through the crowd of excited revelers towards a small staircase at the back of the hall. Another man with a pink mask was standing in front of it, but moved when he saw them approach. Lilian looked back at the party one last time before the stairs curved away and she was left following this stranger alone. She grew nervous once again. She couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity she got from this man. The mask did not do a great job of covering his face so she knew that she would not recognise him without it. Perhaps it was just the perfume shop, she thought and went back to concentrating on the rapidly narrowing steps. Lilian was just recalling the quickest way to the exit when they emerged onto a sort of balcony space. They had been climbing for a short while so Lilian’s legs were a little heavy. The steps continued round and up but the man gestured for Lilian to follow him out at this level. Lilian couldn’t place where she was at first but when she glanced over the edge of the railing she could see the main hall and its many guests far below. She had completely missed it when looking up at the false stars and moon, but then she thought that was probably the point. The balcony blended into the curving walls and was lit only by a few candles so that anyone up here could see down below but those below remained oblivious to being watched. The perfumed man led Lilian towards the only set of chairs on the balcony, which spanned the entire width of the hall. The chairs were dark pink with white flowers embroidered into the material. The man gestured for Lilian to sit on the chair to the right. It was much more comfortable than it seemed. Lilian bounced a couple of times to get the measure of just how comfy it was and when she looked up, she realised that she had been left alone.
What in the seven heavens was going on? Thought Lilian. A few minutes passed and Lilian’s nerves subsided. Perhaps they just wanted her out of the main party? Had her fox hat ruffled some feathers? Was she younger than the palace allowed? Lilian thought all this and more whilst peering over the stone railing at the party below. She was trying to catch snippets of conversation, but from this height the sound all blended into one low drone. Seeing as she was alone she glanced about and then closed her eyes. Within a few seconds the noise was becoming louder and clearer as Lilian slipped into a deep state of focus. She dropped her attention over the edge of the balcony and had fun wandering through the different conversations. It was mostly just nobles catching up since their last party or gossiping about what certain people were wearing or saying. Lilian thought about using this time to explore beyond the palace and hopefully find the source of that strange sound when suddenly she heard the sound of steps on stone and she brought herself slowly out of focus. Lilian opened her eyes to see two women, one following the other, walking towards her from the stone steps. Unlike Lilian, they had reached the balcony from coming down the stairs instead of up. They were both beautifully dressed. The smaller woman who was two or three steps behind was looking at some small sheets of paper in her right hand, in her left she held a charcoal pencil and would occasionally use it to make a change to whatever was on the pages. She wore a black gown that had a small frog embroidered in silver at the base. The woman in front had silky brown hair that curled and cascaded down her left shoulder like a waterfall. Her lips were tinted red and her dress was a deep jade green. It shimmered with every step and Lilian was reminded of the Padda Stone ponds in moonlight. The dress was by far one of the simplest she had seen all evening, but it was without a doubt the most expensive. Even her jewelry was simple, just a small necklace and a ring on her left hand, but Lilian would have bet good money that the ring alone could easily be traded for four or five buildings in her part of the old town. The woman was smiling as she approached.
Lilian stood up as she neared and returned the smile, unsure as to what else to do. When they were within speaking distance Lilian curtsied as was custom. The woman did not return the curtsy but instead smiled and nodded her head in thanks. This told Lilian that whoever she was, she was important. In fact. There was only one person in the entire city who could informally nod at a stranger’s formal curtsy. The lady in green sat down and gestured for Lilian to do the same. The woman in black did not look up from her pages and remained standing a few feet away. Lilian had to lower herself very slowly onto the chair. She dared not look, but she knew her hands were shaking. A flush of heat was filling her cheeks and her head was spinning. What was happening? She thought. Why was she here? This whole thing had been a mistake. Should she run? Should she jump? No. Lilian could do nothing. She was frozen to her seat and could only wait for the woman in green to speak.
“Good evening,” she said, “I am Empress Sylvia. You must be Lilian Lausanne.”
Benlunar - Episode 32
Lilian and Mr Attorcop deal with Bried’s gang.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
A slow clapping was all that breached the tension. Lilian had to crane her head slightly to look past a scrawny man with a pointy beard so that she could confirm that it was indeed Bried who was applauding. The scrawny man moved aside and put his small knife back into his coat pocket. A few others moved as well, everyone had stood to protect their mistress but no one wanted to block her view. Bried stopped clapping and stood up.
“Because he has us,” she parroted back to Lilian, “I love that! So sweet. And who are you supposed to be? Hm? A hayseed blown in from the hills and her pet… what even is that? A dog?” She shot a glance back to Jack Haven who shrugged. “Well whatever it is, it’s drooling on my carpet. In fact…” Bried paused to move more of her personal guard out of her way. She came out of the circle of chairs to get a better look at Fritha. Most eyes followed her, some stayed fixed on the Feinhound.
“Yes,” said Bried, “I think this thing would make a fine carpet in its own right? What do you think Lilian Lausanne? Take away the drool of course.”
Now it was Mr Attorcop’s turn to feel tense. He had been proud of Lilian and Fritha stepping forward and holding their nerve so far. Had Bried been any less of an experienced criminal, he thought, she would have wet her britches like the rest of her entourage. But she was clever. She knew they were here for more than just a messy apartment. They were here to avenge a wrong and Bried was about to pick at the very scar Lilian was attempting to heal. He resolved to say nothing. Lilian had to learn at some point, this could be a valuable teaching moment.
“How about that Lilian Lausanne? Shall we see if it keeps its colours once the coat is off its bones? Maybe your friend Twitchett can help us? That’s right.” Bried noticed the flick of Lilian’s eyes. They betrayed her shock. “What? You don’t think I walk past a little girl with an animal the size of a jungle cat in my city, and not ask questions?”
Mr Attorcop began to wonder if this particular lesson might be taught better in a classroom. Lilian had flinched, but she had not yet cracked. She could go a little more, he thought.
“Let’s get Twitchy in here and let him have a poke at big chops. Or I could just do it myself…” Bried pulled out a small knife, she flicked it quickly round her fingers like it wasn’t a separate thing, rather an extension of herself, like an extra, extremely dangerous finger. Mr Attorcop had picked up on Lilian’s heavy breathing and elevated heart rate. Just a little longer, he thought, willing her to see what Bried was doing. She was trying to get a reaction, she was trying to break her. Was the knife going to do it? Mr Attorcop, reached for his vial of lunar essence, feeling its cold, familiar touch in the folds of his cloak sleeve.
“Or maybe.” Bried was relentless. “Maybe I’ll make you do it. You come from some dirty little farm I’m sure. Did they teach you how to skin animals where you grew up? Or were Mummy and Daddy too busy not caring about you and sending you to cities with strange old men?” Bried was close to Lilian now. Within Lilian’s area of attack for sure, thought Mr Attorcop.
“Why don’t you get out and leave the grown ups to do the talking? Because if I have to look at that horrible red hair for one more second, I think I’m going to be sick.” There was a silence, Lilian stayed put. Seemingly waiting for something.
“Did you hear me hayseed? Get out, or I’ll gut your cat.” Lilian kept her cool. Turned slowly to Bried, smiled softly and spoke.
“For someone with so little information, you really talk a lot.” Mr Attorcop breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t quite the witty retort that would calm the room and get them a name at no price, but it wasn’t too antagonising and did enforce her position of strength. But Lilian’s training could only take her so far at this stage, Mr Attorcop moved to speak.
“Here,” he said, “We found this at the scene.” He’d bypassed the vial and reached instead for one of the silver hand brooches. It clunked heavily onto the floor between Lilian and Bried.
Bried looked at him as if he had interrupted her having dinner. She glanced down, picked up the brooch and studied it for a moment before curling her lip in disinterest. She looked back up at Mr Attorcop with a “so what?” expression, one eyebrow expertly raised.
“No games Tazial. You know what it is and you know that Markhor makes them in his back room. All we want is the name of the person who carried it into my attic and left it there for me to find.” Bried was suddenly struck by something funny. She giggled a strange and high pitched laugh and walked back to her armchair. Some others laughed too, whether they were in on the joke or not, Mr Attorcop did not care.
“You really are in need of information,” chuckled Bried. “Either that or Markhor’s been running his mouth off again. This isn’t a Markhor brooch. Far too detailed. This is one of those horrible noble smith jobs. You can see the joins quite plainly, and there’s no signet. Markhor always leaves that annoying little star on his work.” She made to throw it back to Mr Attorcop but released it too soon and it hurtled towards Lilian. Luckily, Lilian was ready and caught it before it struck her in the face.
“Whoops,” said Bried, and the room laughed once more. Lilian looked as if she was ready to take a life and Mr Attorcop judged that it was time to leave.
“Very well, I suppose we should be off, maybe someone else knows more than you.” They turned their backs and made for the door. Bried shouted after them.
“Come back when you’ve got something valuable and you’ll see how much I know.” Lilian held the door for Fritha to step through and followed Mr Attorcop down the series of rooms they had walked through. Bried could still be heard, her voice fading into the distance.
“I know who hurt her. I know your stupid dog nearly died and that you’re out for revenge. You’re better than that Cromwell you sorry old coot.” Lilian looked up at her friend, she half expected him to be fuming with anger, just like she was, but he was smiling.
A while later Lilian was sitting with Mr Attorcop, Fritha and Katherine. The four of them had found a booth in a Ziedmont inn called The Vine. It was a quiet place that was enjoyed by the older citizens of Freedos. Fritha was in the corner being fussed over by a pair of older women, keeping a watchful eye on their unfinished plates. The inn had red painted walls, leather chairs and only served wine. Lilian was in the middle of lamenting their failure when Mr Attorcop interrupted her.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Isn’t that the whole reason you went in there?” Katherine was struggling to keep her voice down. She had been against seeing Bried from the start.
“Sort of.” Mr Attorcop took another sip of wine. “Yes we want to know who hurt Fritha but they were never going to give something like that up without a very hefty price attached to it.” Katherine didn’t understand, but Lilian did.
“We went in with a clear goal. Mr Attorcop asked about the culprit but all we wanted was the name of the blacksmith.”
“And we got it for free!” Mr Attorcop leaned back in his chair. The leather squeaked and he smiled a wide grin.
“Well, we didn’t exactly get a name.” Lilian reproached. Mr Attorcop shook his head but didn’t look disheartened.
“‘A noble smith’, that’s what she said. And that’s more than enough information considering the price we paid to get it.” Lilian laughed and glanced at Katherine. She had her arms crossed and was rolling her eyes.
“You two think you’re so clever. Now she’s got you on her list, mark my words, she’ll have her eye on you two.” Lilian had not thought of that. But a sudden memory made her relax a little.
“She had already been watching us. She knew all about me and Mr Twitchett and Mr Attorcop’s break in. It’s more information than we’ve had all week and I…” Lilian forced herself to look into Katherine’s disappointed eyes. “I think it was worth the risk.” Mr Attorcop was still smiling.
“Lilian played her part to perfection. I must admit I was worried Bried would see straight through me but I think Lilian and Fritha threw off her judgement.” Katherine sighed and shrugged.
“Well then clever wigs, how are you going to find a “noble blacksmith”, especially when no such thing exists.”
“There are a few of the nobility that dally in smithing as a hobby. Mostly jewelry but occasionally weapons. No one would own up to it outright of course. We’re going to have to find them.” Katherine shot him an ‘I told you so’ face and beckoned for Fritha to come back and stop bothering an old man about his soup. Mr Attorcop looked down at his drink as if trying to find the answers in the swirling crimson pool.
“Everything leaves a mark. A smell, a sound. Nothing is made without destruction of some kind. And destruction creates noise.” He looked at Lilian and his expression grew serious. “Fortunately,” he said, “we have someone on our team who is an exceptionally good listener.”
One surprising thing about the city is that people don’t like it when you sit on the floor. Lilian had found this out the hard way over the last two days. As soon as she went anywhere near the noble quarter at the top of the hill and sat down to try and focus she would be interrupted. The first time was by a man who was coming out of his house. He seemed nice enough but asked Lilian to move as apparently he had people coming round. The next interruption was less friendly. A couple of Weardian officers kicked her in the shin as she was extending her senses into a basement nearby. They told her that beggars were not allowed in this quarter of the city and made sure she was far away before moving on with their patrol. Lilian had hoped that if she found a spot near to the wall that separated the palace court she could focus and listen in to what was happening beyond her normal reach. Currently she was sitting on a rooftop overlooking the palace gate. There were the homes of The Empress’s favourite families beyond the wall as well as the palace itself. Lilian was looking at it now. It had sheer walls of white stone, peppered by the occasional grey vein. Every detail was gilded with gold and jade gargoyles looked out menacingly from the roof. It had been a church once, Lilian had been told, but it had since been repurposed. The houses beyond the wall were no less impressive. Each one was painted in The Empress’s family colours of pink, green and white. Even the flowers on the wooden window sills did not stray from the colour scheme. Lilian had to be careful up here, so as a precaution before scaling the building she had practised gloaming with one of Fritha’s hairs. She had taken to keeping four or five of them in a small handkerchief in her pocket. Just one fresh hair was enough to keep her invisible for about 20 minutes, hopefully that would be enough time to devine something useful. Lilian shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
The city shifted from bright colours and thatched roofs into a world of calm darkness. The occasional noise from the streets below created tiny lights that Lilian could gravitate towards in the gloom. One group of lights illuminated a conversation between two guards. Another one revealed a family of cats living under a set of wooden steps. Lilian explored the darkness for sometime, hunting for anything that might stand out. There was the smell of cooking four houses away that was rather distracting, not to mention the argument happening in one of the palace court homes. Lilian could not quite make out the words, but they were heated enough to burn brightly against the dark. She was busy listening to a man in his bathroom practising a speech when something caught her attention. It was a sound. Like a bell ringing in the distance. Lilian was reminded of the Stave Church bowl bells sounding out across the mountains. This was faint though. Very faint. Lilian was so busy trying to figure out what it was, that she almost forgot to find its source. There was some trouble here. No matter what Lilian did, she could not place the bell. Perhaps it was this that had made it stand out to her in the first place. It was certainly coming from beyond the wall. But Lilian for the life of her could not find its source. She listened. The bell rang a few more times. And just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Lilian listened. And listened. And listened. But there was nothing.
A few days later, Lilian still couldn’t shake the sound of it. It was like a puzzle, except she only had one piece and no conception of the picture it could fit in. She had briefly seen Mr Attorcop the night before and had conveniently forgotten to mention it. She didn’t want to bother him with something that could be nothing. Fritha licked her hand and shook her out of the daydream. She could still vividly see the sound echoing through the silent gloom like the ripple of a pebble on a dark lake. But no matter how hard she focused, she could not place its centre, like trying to find somewhere in a dream. She snapped back to reality and looked at the clean, empty window display case in front of her. The rag in her hand was black with dust and as she absentmindedly wiped sweat off her face she left a large grey stain on her cheek.
“All done!” she shouted back to Mr Twitchett.
“Oh good.” She heard him say as he shuffled out of the back room. He looked up through his bushy eyebrows and admired the work.
“Splendid. Thank you Lilian. And thank YOU Fritha bella.” He reached down and stroked Fritha’s bright blue head.
“What’s going there?” Lilian pointed to the empty central podium in the window. There had previously been a rather fierce looking ferret, bleached in places by the sun, but it had recently been sold.
“I have something in the basement that will be just right.” Lilian was confused.
“Basement?” she asked, looking around for a trap door she must have missed.
“Not here,” replied Mr Twitchett, “It’s down the road. Part of the deal that came with the place, I rarely use it because it’s too far.” He reached for his cloak as he spoke and gestured for Lilian to do the same.
The cellar in question was only ten minutes away and that was going at Mr Twitchett’s pace. Lilian reckoned she could have made it three or four minutes. He led them down a sidestreet and towards some dull, rust coloured walls. Mr Twitchett took a key from his pocket and opened an iron door. It creaked on its hinges and was apparently the entrance to some sort of stables. The space was big and dark and smelled of hay. Lilian was about to ask why it was empty but when she looked over at Mr Twitchett, the answer was obvious. The ceiling had been built far too low. Lilian was still growing so she missed it at first, but the practicality of running a business or a home in such a cramped space was ridiculous. Mr Twitchett moved slowly over to the back of the space and gestured behind him to the barred windows.
“I don’t keep anything in here because you can see it from the street.” He bent down and gestured to Lilian to come over.
“Would you mind? Just let me unlock it and then grab that handle.” He pointed to an iron bar that was slotted into the wood. Mr Twitchett fiddled for a few seconds with the key to what appeared to be a large trap door, half buried in the floor. Lilian was sure she hadn’t noticed it coming in. Mr Twitchett cursed the darkness under his breath as the third key he tried still brought no joy. Fritha must have sensed his frustration, in the dim light she shifted her coat into a luminous bluish white. Both Lilian and Mr Twitchett stopped to marvel at it before getting back to the task at hand.
“Good lady.” Lilian whispered in Fritha’s ear as she touched the glowing fur on her neck. With a resounding click the lock was bested and Lilian helped Mr Twitchett to lift the heavy lid out of the floor. It revealed a set of wooden steps leading down into pitch black. Lilian might have been scared if she wasn’t with someone who knew the place well. Fearless Fritha was the first to plunge into the depths and luckily she could illuminate the way for the others. Lilian stepped through slowly and held on to the flimsy rope for balance. The steps curved round to the left and after climbing down only a few Lilian saw the space beneath. Fritha’s shining form was smaller due to the distance, but she still managed to light the entire room. It was a big room, with an appropriate ceiling, wooden floorboards and even dusty chandeliers.
“This is amazing!” Lilian’s voice echoed off the walls, which she noticed were paneled with painted wood. Green perhaps? It was hard to tell in the bluish haze. Fritha’s light quickly winked out and then reappeared in the corner of Lilian’s eye. She turned to see that Fritha had just past behind a large object. It had grey sheets draped over it. Lilian walked towards it. Fritha was sniffing at the hem of the sheet, curious to discover what was underneath. Lilian started to gently remove the sheet.
“Careful, it’s very old.” Mr Twitchett warned her, he was half way between the object and the steps by now. Lilian lifted the sheet up some more, peeked underneath and gasped.
Half an hour later Mr Twitchett was stepping back from his shop window to admire the new display. Lilian, who had been straightening it under his direction, stepped out of the shop and turned around. The site of a ferocious lynx greeted her. It was perched on top of a series of plaster cast rocks, its ears flat and teeth bared for the pounce. It’s realistic yellow glass eyes were fixated on another animal directly beneath it, mounted on the same display. This animal was a fox. From this angle it looked frightened of the large and terrifying cat in front of it, but when Lilian was placing it, she saw that the fox actually looked just as, if not more fierce than the cat. Mr Twitchett was beaming with its placement.
“What do you think?”
“It’s a little…” Lilian thought for a second.
“It’s alright,” Mr Twitchett reassured her, “you can say it. It’s gruesome.” Mr Twitchett was laughing. “I made it years and years ago. When I was young and desperate to impress. These days I prefer a little more coyness and subtlety in the looks.” Lilian nodded.
“I was going to say… It is a bit more aggressive than the usual displays.”
“Ah but that’s the thing. What with the Empress’s animal being the Lynx I thought this might throw any attention off me for associating with that revolutionary fellow.” Lilian smiled. If anything shouted ‘pro Empress Syliva’ it was this. The lynx stood fierce and proud and since foxes were notorious city vermin, well, it wasn’t exactly subtle. Suddenly, Lilian had a thought.
“Mr Twitchett?”
“Hm?”
“I was just wondering. Do you ever rent out that basement?” Mr Twitchett was pretending to walk past his own shop window, getting a ‘buyer’s view’ as he called it.
“Oh goodness no.” He said, “Horrible, dark little place. Who would want it?” Lilian smiled.
“I can think of someone.”
The pace of events began to quicken. Mr Attorcop, unsure at first of the dingy basement, quickly came around to the idea of moving in once he heard what Mr Twitchett would charge for rent. With Lilian’s help they managed to clean the place which led to some interesting discoveries. The first was that natural light did reach the basement, it was just behind some very grimy grates and the second was that there was a small door at the back of the space which was locked. They tried every key on Mr Twitchett’s chain, but none of them fit. Mr Attorcop was about to try kicking the door in when he realised that there were probably more important matters to be getting on with. There was sweeping, mopping, wall washing, decorating, bringing in furniture, setting up tables and just generally making the basement not seem like a forgotten old hole in the ground. Fritha tried helping whenever she could, but she generally just got in the way. The effort took several days during which they unfortunately had to put their avenging to one side. Lilian did mention the ringing to Mr Attorcop during a break between moving bookshelves. He had asked a few questions which Lilian could not answer and finally said that he would think on what it meant.
“As you say, it could be nothing. But even so, we know it’s coming from beyond the palace court walls and if that is our best lead then we need to start thinking about getting beyond them.” He looked around the sparse but improving room, looking for inspiration perhaps.
“I don’t suppose you ever go through the gates for Twitchett’s deliveries?” Lilian shook her head.
“I always have to give my parcel to a guard at the gate and tell him who it's for. Every delivery does.” Mr Attorcop nodded and both of them fell into thought whilst watching Fritha try to eat a mop.
The answer to their question came the very next day when Katherine dropped by to look at the new basement.
“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, dropping her bag by the entrance and stepping onto the newly laid carpet.
“It will do.” Mr Attorcop spoke in a dissatisfied mumble, but Lilian knew that he was proud of it too.
“Come and look at the painting,” said Lilian, ushering Katherine to the west wall where she had hung a small painting of a regal looking fox.
“Oh that’s lovely,” said Katherine and she put her arm around Lilian and squeezed her arm. “Now, who wants a pastry?” Katherine looked back at her bag and Lilian ran to get it. The three of them were sitting moments later chewing the sweet cakes that Katherine had bought them.
“It’s madness up there,” said Katherine, with a mouthful of cake, gesturing above her.
“What do you mean?” asked Lilian.
“Oh it’s three days until the Summer Ball so everyone is busy buying fabric and dresses.” She waved her hand absently as if to dismiss the whole business. Lilian stopped chewing her cake and looked at Mr Attorcop. Mr Attorcop looked at Lilian. Fritha, looked at Lilian’s cake.
“Katherine…” Lilian began, turning back to look at her friend. “Where is the Summer Ball held.” Katherine licked a crumb from her lip and looked at them both.
“Why… the palace. It’s one of three big parties of the year. I’ve never been invited but the lady of the house where I work has been four times.” Katherine raised her eyebrows, Lilian got the impression she was supposed to be impressed. She opened her eyes wide and Katherine was glad at the acknowledgement.
“What does one need to get into this... party?” Mr Attorcop spoke calmly. Katherine rolled her eyes.
“It’s not a party. That makes it sound like a child’s birthday. It’s the Summer Ball. The Empress sends the invites out herself and you need to show it at the door to get in.” Lilian slumped in her chair. The sparks of an idea had been struck in her mind, but any flame had been quickly snuffed out. Mr Attorcop, apparently not disheartened, leaned forward and pressed Katherine on the issue.
“How did your lady get an invitation?”
“She does good work for the poor of the city. Sometimes if she completes a major project she’ll get recognised by the state. Her invitations came on really good years.”
“What kind of work does she do?” asked Lilian.
“She raises money for the poor of the city. She takes from the rich and gives it to the poor in the form of housing or schools.” Mr Attorcop made a quick tutting sound. He did this whenever he heard something he disapproved of.
“You mean she takes rich people’s money and then makes deals with builders so that they can share it all out amongst more rich people.” Katherine shot him an angry look,
“Perhaps. But the homes do get built…” She paused, doubting herself, “Occasionally.” Lilian wanted to get back on track.
“When did these invitations go out?” she asked.
“Oh they haven’t yet.” Lilian sat up. “Oh that’s the best bit,” continued Katherine, “They go out the night before! It’s an old tradition. It started because the fourth Emperor apparently couldn’t decide who to invite to his birthday. So his wife, the night before, sent out secret invites to everyone she knew who would make the best party guests. And she must have got it right because the Empress still does that today.” The story was met once again with a tutting from Mr Attorcop, combined with an overly affected eye roll.
“That may or may not be true but that’s not why she does it. You’ve already told us that.” He pointed upwards. “You said so yourself that it’s madness up there. Every noble or even people that can only sniff a noble's arm pit as he walks past, is out there buying things. If you don’t tell people who is invited then everyone has to assume they are, or else you might have some reason to be out of the Empress’s favour. To assume you’re going is to assume you’re liked and so you go out and buy the latest style gown or you make your own with materials from the markets.” He popped his last piece of cake in his mouth and was done talking. Katherine looked at Lilian.
“Seven stars, how long did you have to travel with misery man over here?” Lilian laughed.
“A n y w a y, what’s with all the interest in the ball?” Lilian shrugged and went back to her cake.
“We need to get into the palace court somehow.” Katherine coughed a little.
“And you thought you could get into the ball?”
“Not necessarily as a guest. Perhaps a servant or waiter.” Katherine shook her head.
“That’s even less likely than getting an invitation. It’s catered by the palace so everyone will be vetted and given paperwork long before this week. They don’t take on new staff just to cater the ball either. That’s just how many people she’s got working up there.” A dejected sigh came from the small gathering. Apparently they were going to have to find another way to get beyond the palace walls and try to find the source of the strange bell. The group discussed various options, each more risky than the last. The best bet seemed to be getting a hold of one of the Summer Ball invitations.
The next day they tried everything. Black market dealers, nobles in need of cash, they even set up watches to catch the messengers mid delivery, but nothing worked. In the end they needn’t have tried so hard to find an invitation, because when Lilian returned home after her second evening of searching there was one waiting for her in her room.
Benlunar - Episode 31
Lilian and Mr Attorcop do all they can to help Fritha. Later, they seek answers from some disreputable types.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
The beating of drums is associated with victory. When padded hammers strike taught skins we feel our passions pace along and quicken with every thump thump thump. The drum plays under celebrations even when those victories have taken many sacrifices to achieve. Our minds get swept up in the infectious rhythms, the beating breaks down barriers and we find ourselves hugging complete strangers, smiling, even when the situation might call for tears. We forget in the moment that the drum beats before the battle as well as after it. What we rarely consider is that the beat can be a triumph in and of itself. It needn’t be loud, and in this case it was certainly not. A tiny almost inaudible rhythm, struck by a rapidly weakening heart. A little beat that Lilian Lausanne would treasure and dance to for years to come as if it was the loudest, boldest victory drum. Like one the people would build after a great war was won.
“She’s breathing.” Lilian managed to speak through tears and a clenched throat. She could not bring herself to smile in the moment, the battle was only just beginning and Fritha’s faint heartbeat signified both the start and the victory. Lilian felt a hand pull her away from her friend and saw a dark blur descend upon her. Mr Attorcop had fetched various tinctures to thicken blood, gut and needle to close wounds and even a rare and dangerous herb ground into a fine powder that could shock a heart back into beating if it stopped for a second. Lilian wanted to help, she vaguely remembered asking what she could do but Mr Attorcop was far more knowledgeable in these matters and Lilian would only get in the way. Instead her and Katherine began creating space for him to work, fetching things he might need. They brought a desk over, laid a sheet over it and lifted Fritha’s enormous form onto it. Katherine stayed calm but it was all Lilian could do to not burst into fits of rage and tears right there and then. Katherine sensed this and took Lilian’s hand, clutching it tightly and whispering.
“It’s going to be okay. Just breathe my dear, Cromwell will take care of her.” Lilian nodded, desperately wanting to believe her. She needed Fritha to know that she was there and so she lead Katherine round to the end of the desk, near Fritha’s head. She crouched down and gazed into her eyes. Little puffs of air moved the hairs in front of Fritha’s nose. She seemed to react when she saw Lilian’s face, but it was hard to tell. She could just have been trying to focus on the moving shapes in front of her. Lilian didn’t want to believe that Fritha’s eyes were losing some of their vibrancy. It was hard enough to come to terms with the fact that Fritha’s fur was becoming increasingly grey. She looked like someone had poured ash or soot on her, covering her incredible multi colours. Lilian reached out with her other hand and touch Fritha’s forehead. The clicking and snipping sounds of Mr Attorocop’s medical instruments whirred away in the background. Lilian made a silent promise to herself that if Fritha got through this then she would never again ask her to hide. She would not be Fritha the dog, she would be Fritha the Feinhound, a fable made flesh. She would not hush her growls or calm her temper. And she would never, ever again put a lead on her.
The minutes dragged by and Mr Attorcop continued to work, the heat of the attic was getting to him and more than once he had to wipe away big beads of sweat from his brow. Katherine and Lilian had brought out and lit every gas lamp and candle they could find. After a few hours, when the moon was high and clearly visible out of the big attic window, Mr Attorcop stood back and finally took a deep breath.
“That’s all I can do for now. She needs rest and… luck.” He looked up and appeared to be seeing the state of the attic for the first time. His face fell as he glanced at the shattered experiments, the broken glass and stained floorboards. The damage represented weeks of progress and hundreds of gold crowns in equipment and resources. Lilian was about to thank him, probably even hug him, but he suddenly leapt into action as if some sudden and terrible realisation had just occurred to him. He ran over to the back wall and looked behind the table. He muttered something under his breath.
“Damn them to the depths. The Nightshade is gone.” Once more, Lilian watched his eyes widen in shock and he sprinted up the steps and disappeared into the back of the space. Lilian looked at Katherine, she was as confused as Lilian. Mr Attorcop’s voice echoed from the back of the room.
“Twelve Hells! They’re gone.” He came back to the steps with both hands on his head. He dragged them down his face and he seemed to age several years as he did. He sat down on the top step and looked at Lilian and Katherine.
“What is it?” asked Katherine. Lilian was still too distracted by checking on Fritha’s breathing to pay him much attention.
“The essence. My… I had some bottles that contained a very valuable solution. I had hidden them in various parts of the attic and most have been found and taken. I have only this one left.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial of Lunar essence. Lilian glanced at it and noticed that it was only three quarters full. Mr Attorcop looked up and made eye contact with her. His eyes were red and heavy bags were forming under them. He looked up and around at his recently salvaged home, now ruined beyond repair. He looked tired and sad. And then he looked angry.
Fritha thankfully recovered within the week. They moved her to Lilian’s room under cover of darkness and she rested on the floor under Lilian’s constant vigil. In the afternoon of the second day, after she had not eaten or drunk anything and seemed to be getting worse, Lilian had the idea to feed her some Lunar essence. She did not know what made her link the two things together in her mind, it just seemed to make sense that this mythical substance and a legendary creature came into her life at a similar time. She had been hesitant, remembering just how little supply they had left. She even wondered if she should ask Mr Attorcop whether she was allowed to use it in this way, but he had given her the vial and so it was hers to use as she saw fit. Lilian opened the handle of her knife and dropped a few drops of the essence onto Fritha’s tongue. It cost her a quarter of the bottle, but Fritha’s fur began to pulse with colour within seconds of tasting it. Within the hour she was drinking water and the very next day she was walking. It was not a confident stride, rather a timid and careful limp, but Lilian beamed at her progress nonetheless. Losing some of the essence was well worth seeing Fritha’s beautiful colours shift and shine once again. Mr Attorcop would check on her every day but Lilian never mentioned that she had found the bottle of essence he’d hidden for her, let alone the fact that she’d used some to help Fritha recover.
Mr Twitchet, being a lover of animals in his own way, understood that Lilian needed some time off work to tend to Fritha and promised that there would be work for her when she needed it. Katherine visited every day and brought Lilian food and sour berries for Fritha. Her expression when she saw Fritha stand up to greet her at the door was priceless. On the fifth day Lilian was getting Fritha ready for her first proper walk when both Mr Attorcop and Katherine visited at the same time. Katherine had managed to get the day off work claiming that a close friend was ill (which was partly true) and Mr Attorcop had a morning to spare in his hunt for a new base of operations. They had all agreed that the attic was compromised and too dangerous a place to stay so Mr Attorcop had salvaged everything he could and taken it to The Greedy Goose on Katherine’s recommendation. The three of them and Fritha were all sitting in Lilian’s room, it was a tight squeeze but they just about managed to find spots on the floor and bed.
“Still no idea on who it could have been?” Katherine asked Mr Attorcop.
“A hundred theories but no real leads. To be honest though I haven’t really been looking, I think it’s best I stay low for a while and find a new place to live and work before I go around asking questions.”
“Now that Fritha is a little better, I can help you look for somewhere.” added Lilian, desperate to get back out into the city and feel useful.
“Thank you Lilian. I’ve taken some work from a few old clients and I’ve been doing some odd jobs for Katrina these past few days, just so that I can pay my way at the Goose and maybe even save some money for somewhere new.” A silence fell on the room. It was the silence of defeat. Whoever this invisible enemy was they had taken their first victory and Lilian and her friends could do nothing but sit and lick their wounds, quite literally in Fritha’s case who was licking her stitches with her big purple tongue. Lilian distracted her with a sour berry, lest she open the cut. All their training and all their talk of power did not stop them from feeling weak and decidedly powerless in this moment. It was Mr Attorcop who snapped out of the silence first with a sudden memory.
“Oh, Lilian, I found this when I went back to the attic. You must have dropped it.” He reached into a pocket in the lining of his shirt and pulled out a small silver object. When he opened his hand for her to take it, Lilian saw that it was a small broach in the shape of a silver hand. She looked at him, confused.
“It is yours isn’t it? You showed it to me in Benlunar. It must have fallen out of your bag or pocket.” Lilian did recognise the broach but she was unsure about something. She took it, stood up and went to her door where her travel bag was hanging from a hook.
“I’ve seen that kind of broach before,” said Katherine.
“Unsurprising. We found that one in Benlunar, apparently they’re used by a group of silly nobles who…” Mr Attorcop did not finish his sentence. He stopped short when he saw Lilian turn back around with the silver broach in her left hand, and an identical one in her right. Mr Attorcop stood up quickly and walked the two full steps over to her.
“It wasn’t mine,” said Lilian. Mr Attorcop took them both off her and studied them, making absolutely sure they were the same shape. He spotted a few differences, to be expected when looking at individually crafted pieces, but the size, shape and form of the hand were unmistakably identical. Katherine was standing up now and Fritha, expecting a walk, got shakily up to her feet as well. Mr Attorcop had to stoop slightly to avoid the beams but this didn’t stop him from pacing back and forth a few steps. He did this sometimes when he had to think. Every step seemed to put more energy into his body, each turn added more of that mischievous sparkle in his eyes that Lilian hadn’t seen for a long time. He was about to speak but he interrupted himself. He looked at Lilian.
“Miss Lausanne,” he said, and Lilian was transported back to the stone shelf on Benlunar mountain, “Tell me what we know.” Lilian looked at Katherine and smiled.
“We know that a small silver brooch was left at the scene of destruction. The clasp is not broken so it’s unlikely that it fell off.”
“Which means?”
“That it was left there on purpose.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“Because they wanted us to know who was responsible. It’s a message. A warning.”
“It’s a mistake.” Mr Attorcop spat the words out with a wide smile on his face. He looked so manic that Katherine seemed nervous to ask her question.
“I thought it was done on purpose?” Mr Attorcop wheeled round to look at her, he looked almost surprised to see her standing there.
“My dear Mrs Brown, the leaving of the brooch was not the mistake. The mistake was these silver hand idiots thinking that they could intimidate us. They destroyed my place of work and my home, they tried to murder my Feinhound friend, they tried to take everything from us in the hope that we would cower and crawl back into the shadows. But what they don’t realise is that once you have lost everything you no longer have anything to lose. My associates and I do not crawl into shadows. We become shadows.” The room practically darkened as he spoke. Lilian felt a shiver of excitement prickle her arms and Fritha let out a fearsome jangle of snarls. Mr Attorcop turned back to Lilian with a fearsome fire in his eyes. He held one of the brooches up in the space between them.
“Someone makes these. We are going to find out who and then they are going to give us names.” Lilian smiled and replied.
“I know exactly who we can ask.”
It took three bribes, six loosely veiled threats and one pat of Fritha’s head but four days later they were granted an audience with Tazial Bried, Freedos’ most infamous and dangerous woman. It was worth the price and risk because apparently, no illegal activity happened in the city without her knowing about it. All their efforts had merely granted them audience however, whether or not she would answer their questions was another risk entirely. It took a whole day to find out exactly where she was based, and another to learn what happened to anyone who disrespected her in her presence. Mr Attorcop, driven by some vengeful spirit, took all the warnings and threats in his stride, shrugging them off like they were playground insults. This gave Lilian confidence but as she, Fritha and Mr Attorcop approached the house where Bried held court, she could not help but remember the dreadful stories that had surfaced during their search. One back alley thief had told them how Bried offered her guests poisoned wine, where the poison would only activate if they told a lie. Another man, a blade for hire, explained that he had stared too long into her eyes once and found himself wishing for death. And then there was her entourage, a more evil and terrifying group could not be found on the pages of adventure novels. Lilian pictured their faces as they saw the manor looming in the distance. There was Gus Deakon who had the strength of ten men. Jack Havens, a fierce female spy and master poisoner who’s sixth and hidden blade could kill you in your dreams. Finally there was Tarek Bismuth, the man who Lilian had seen with the big black dog. Not much was known about him but whenever he was mentioned he was referred to by the same name: The Devil. Lilian gulped down a ball of stress as she recalled his cowled and crooked face. Not ‘a devil’, she thought, The Devil. Mr Attorcop stopped. They were far enough from the house to not be seen by anyone looking out of the windows.
“Lilian, there will be other ways, you know.”
“What do you mean?” She replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.
“I mean it might take a little longer, but eventually we would find out who hurt Fritha and we would not end up in the pockets of any… unsavoury types in the process.” Lilian smiled.
“Are you scared Cromwell?” Mr Attorcop’s face grew serious.
“Yes. And if you’re not then you should be. I’m used to having to deal with these kinds of people but I try not to make a habit of it. They leave me alone and I pay them in kind. All I’m saying is that there are other ways.” Lilian thought for a moment before replying.
“No.” She said, “We’ve already wasted enough days, for all we know the person responsible left Freedos and is getting further away every day. We need them, but we cannot let them know we need them.” Mr Attorcop smiled.
“You’re sounding more like me everyday. I’m not sure I like it but there it is. You’re right, we can’t give them any more leverage than they already have. Worst case is we leave with no answer and we take that as a win, you understand?” Lilian nodded. “Now, what are we doing about this one?” He motioned down to Fritha who was currently pulsating beautiful turquoise and purple waves across her body. True to her word, Lilian had not asked her to hide in the recent days and the results were better than she had expected. Many people were interested in her but few approached them, probably intimidated by her size. Mr Twitchett was her biggest admirer by far and practically begged Lilian to leave her with him when she went on errands, which she did happily. She would always come back to find them playing some silly game. Mr Twitchett never looked so young.
“She comes with us. Colours and all.” Mr Attorcop nodded. “Watch.” She said and Lilian turned to Fritha, got out a sour berry and readied to issue a command.
“Fritha!” Lilian spoke loudly and clearly, grabbing Fritha’s attention with the berry and her tone. Fritha sat down expectantly, drool forming in the corners of her mouth. “On guard. Fritha! On guard.” Fritha’s coat shimmered, night black flooded her fur with the occasional splash of blood red. She seemed to grow in size as well and her lip curled back to reveal long sharp teeth.
“Good girl,” said Lilian as she let Fritha eat the berry from her hand. She turned back to Mr Attorcop with a sly grin. He looked taken aback, perhaps even a little frightened.
“Well, that should do it,” he said, “Let’s go.”
The house itself was painted a faded mauve. It was a wide building that stood alone, a rare thing in the cramped streets of Freedos. Flickering candle lights could be seen in the top windows, two floors above street level, despite it being the middle of the day. The chipped paint work and faded shutters told Lilian that its occupiers cared less for form than they did for function. They were in Lionsgate, an area known for its slum housing and beggar filled streets. This house was a little way up the hill from the tired, run down shacks that populated the rest of the quarter. It was as though at some point someone had tried to improve the area by giving its people something to aspire to, but instead of lifting the crowds up, the house had instead been pulled down to their level. The locals often joked about Lionsgate, calling it Lionsmouth instead. Lilian had asked Katherine about this once and she had replied that once a lion had you in its jaws, you did not escape. Well if Lionsgate was a mouth, thought Lilian, then this house surely was the belly of the beast.
Two men were hanging around outside it, they stood up lazily when Mr Attorcop and Lilian approached. They gave them a quick look but were distracted by Fritha.
“You lost?” One of them barked. He had a shiny bald head and only half of his left ear.
“Not if this is where we can find Tazial Bried,” said Mr Attorcop. He was met with narrowed eyes. “She’s expecting me.” He reassured them.
“No weapons inside.” The other man spoke up, and as he approached them, Lilian noticed that he avoided getting too close to Fritha.
“I assure you we have none.” Said Mr Attorcop.
“Arms up. Got to check.” The first man spoke again, gesturing for Lilian and Mr Attorcop to raise their arms so that they could be searched. They complied and Lilian was suddenly glad she had chosen to leave her knife at home.
“What’s this?” The second man had pulled his hands out of Mr Attorcop’s cloak and was holding up a vial of essence. Lilian felt a pang of fear spread through her.
“A tonic.” Mr Attorcop, said, cool as a cucumber. “For my heart.” The man looked at it for a few seconds, which to Lilian felt like an eternity, before shrugging and giving it back to Mr Attorcop. Clearly this man’s imagination did not stretch to weapons being anything other than clubs or knives. The man stepped back quickly to avoid being sniffed by Fritha, who had been letting out low threatening sounds the whole time, and waved his hand for them to pass. While climbing the steps up to the front door, Lilian marvelled at how easy it was to pass the guards. Either they were very dim, or they knew that no one in their right minds would ever bother attacking the people inside.
The door clicked open with ease and the three of them stepped across the threshold onto the dark wood floor. They found themselves in a large reception room with a staircase to the upper floors directly ahead of them. Old portraits adorned the walls, long neglected and covered by a thick layer of dust. Some of the more stately looking figures had crudely drawn eyebrows or facial hair on them. The rest of the hall was just as dirty but surprisingly clear of the clutter one would expect to find after years of neglect. There were open doors to their left and right and Lilian could hear laughter coming from the left side of the house. She looked to Mr Attorcop who took a deep breath and lead the way. The laughter and chatter grew as they made their way through the large rooms, each one had an ornate fireplace but very little furniture. They were all bigger than Lilian’s room, and when they finally found the source of the noise they opened a set of double doors to a room that was bigger than Lilian’s entire family home. Unlike the others, this room contained quite a bit of furniture and was tastefully decorated. There were about a dozen people inside all of whom were sitting on beautifully upholstered chairs and settees. Had it not been for their faded colours and ripped corners, Lilian would not have been surprised to find them in a palace. There was no central table, rather each chair had its own little side table where the occupants kept their cups and various plates with dried meats and pickled vegetables. The wallpaper was blue and black and patterned with flourished stylized lilies. The curtains were drawn and let in abundant sunlight which reflected off of the chandelier that was suspended from the ceiling. It was a beautiful room but Lilian tried not to get too distracted in admiring it. They were here to work, after all.
The chatter and laughter ceased as soon as Mr Attorcop opened the double doors and all eyes turned to look at them. Lilian spotted the man called Bismuth sitting towards the back of the room, near the fireplace, apart from the main crowd. She noticed him because his dog stood up as soon as they entered and started approaching them slowly with a soft growl in its throat. Mr Attorcop said nothing, instead, he watched the group slowly turn their eyes from him to the woman with the shaved head, sitting in the luxurious red leather armchair. Tazial Bried, thought Lilian, swallowing her fear and desperately trying to keep her face calm and collected. Bried finished chewing a slice of pear before speaking. Any other host might have stood up and greeted them but Lilian got the sense that everyone here was living according to her whims and wants. For a few seconds there were just the sounds of growling and chewing.
“You’re Cromwell Attorcop,” said Bried, in a sharp, clear voice.
“I am,” replied Mr Attorcop.
“The real Cromwell Attorcop.” Bried said with a slight chuckle. A few of the other people sitting around laughed as well. Clearly Bried’s reputation for knowing things was well founded. Mr Attorcop did not respond to this.
“And who’s this?” She gestured to Lilian.
“This is…”
“Ah.” Bried interrupted Mr Attorcop, holding up a finger to silence him. “She can speak for herself, can’t you darling?” Mr Attorcop looked down at Lilian as if waiting for her to speak. Lilian tried to calm her heavily beating heart.
“My name is Lilian Lausanne,” she said, as clearly and bravely as her beating heart would let her. Luckily her voice did not crack. Bried’s eyes narrowed and she glanced at Fritha.
“How many dogs do you have Lilian Lausanne? If that thing even is a dog.” More laughter from the crowd.
“Just the one.” Lilian kept her answers short and truthful, she didn’t want to talk about Fritha but Bried clearly remembered seeing them together the other day. Lilian sensed suspicion growing in her and worried that she had blown the mission. Trust and honesty was clearly important to this group of thieves and liars.
“Well come on, spit it out. What do you two want? I’m very busy.” The big black dog was edging closer as she spoke, its ears pricked and its growl growing louder. It had not taken its eyes off of Fritha since she had walked into the room. Fritha, for her part, was ignoring it and looking at some dried ham on a nearby table.
“We’re here to negotiate for some information.” Mr Attorcop waited for someone to interject but when no one did, he continued, “My home and place of work was destroyed and some valuable materials were taken, we seek those responsible.” Lilian was confused, weren’t they here to determine who made the silver hand brooches? Perhaps that was the long way round, if Bried did know who was responsible for hurting Fritha, then they might not need to know who made the brooches.
“And what makes you think I would know?” Bried had gone back to picking at her pear. A couple of the others were also losing interest in the conversation, eating or drinking in the silences between questions.
“I was under the impression that little happened within the city walls without your knowing. Especially when it came to unsavoury matters. Perhaps your reputation is… unwarranted.” Mr Attorcop’s quip produced low hums and the kissing of teeth from Bried’s fellows. The black dog edged ever closer. Bried’s face was placid, but Lilian could have sworn she saw the twitch of a smile play across her thin lips. Perhaps what Mr Attorcop had said was true, demons like to play games.
“People say you’re an intelligent man Cromwell, and yet you stand here and practically accuse me of destroying your place. Perhaps it is your reputation that is unwarranted.” Bried shot her eyes up from her delicate knife work of peeling the skin off the pear. Mr Attorcop held her gaze. The black dog bared its teeth.
“I don’t remember accusing you of anything. But then I am getting old and perhaps my memory is fading. If you truly know nothing then we’ll be on our way. Come Lilian.” The tension broke a little and the small crowd began to laugh and boo. They had clearly been enjoying the spectacle. Bried hushed them with a smile and the wave of her hand.
“Stay Cromwell, we can talk. Perhaps I do know something. What are you willing to pay for the knowledge?” Mr Attorcop waited a second before replying.
“That would depend on the quality of the information.” Bried nodded, and popped a piece of skinless fruit in her mouth.
“A name.” She said, casually. Mr Attorcop narrowed his eyes.
“A name would be a valuable thing. But I don’t think you have it.”
And just like that, the tension was back. Only this time, it was different. The games had been played and the negotiation was suddenly serious. Lilian saw the woman known as Havens, who was sitting to Bried’s left, reach down behind her chair and tense her arm as if gripping something. What in the seven heavens was Mr Attorcop playing at? Thought Lilian. When Bried spoke, her voice was almost a whisper.
“Are you calling me a liar.” Mr Attorcop shook his head.
“I’m calling you a gambler. I think you have a pretty good idea as to who was responsible. But I don’t wish to deal in good ideas. I wish to deal in facts. No facts. No deal.” Bried snorted in derision.
“You talk of deals. I don’t even know what I’m trading for yet.” It was time for Mr Attorcop to place his first offer. With a destroyed apartment and little ways of making money, Bried knew that he wouldn’t have much in the way gold or silver. Mr Attorcop had to play his hand carefully so as not to end up agreeing to do some horrible job or worse, end up in her debt.
“For a shoddy guess?” Mr Attorcop said, “Three sovereigns.” With such a low offer on top of an insult, Lilian had expected laughter. But there was none. The proposition was instead met with curled lips and scowling faces. Lilian did not know how much more tension her heart could handle. Bried’s face was a picture of spurn. The black dog lowered its head and raised its hackles, ready to pounce at any moment. Mr Attorcop and Fritha remained resolute.
“You come to my house. You insult my integrity and you offer me pittance in return. Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t cut you all to pieces here and now and hide your bodies in the basement with the rest of the rubbish?” The crowd sturred, ready to spring into a fight. Lilian clenched her fist and began analysing the room for exits and vulnerabilities. Mr Attorcop stood with his eyes fixed on Bried as if all the rumours were true and she had somehow turned him to stone.
The black dog took one more step towards Fritha. Perhaps it sensed the atmosphere but its restraint finally broke and it let out a loud and sharp bark. The sound put everyone on their feet, save for Bried, knives and clubs in every hand, so fast that Lilian did not even see where the weapons had been hiding. She copied Mr Attorcop who did not move. The only member of their group that did was Fritha. The bark had finally caught her attention and she turned to the black dog with murder in her eyes. She stood up to her full height, bared her knife long teeth and let out a sound so loud and piercing that it even shocked Lilian. It was like a hundred metal poles had been dropped onto cobbles from a great height all at once. The black dog quickly put its tail between its legs and stepped back, almost skidding on the polished wood as it did. The dog rushed to its owner who was looking at it with shame in his eyes. Lilian had never been so proud of her companion. She stepped forward and put her hand around Fritha’s shoulder. Her menacing stare had turned on the crowd now and Lilian noticed several of the hardened criminals had lost the colour from their cheeks. Lilian stroked her friend’s furry head and addressed the room with more calm and confidence than she had felt all day, she said,
“Because he has us.”
Benlunar - Episode 30
Lilian sees a strange group of people making their way through the city and joins Mr Attorcop in a shopping trip.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
Dear Lilian, We were so happy to receive your letter and to hear that you had arrived safely in Freedos. Your journey sounds very exciting! Also glad to hear that Mr Attorcop was able to meet you in the city after his work took him away. Were you not scared having to find your way on your own? Well, you had Fritha I suppose, and it sounds like that woman Katherine is very kind. Not much happening in Benlunar by way of excitement I’m afraid. Brother Thomas held a wonderful Midsummer fair in the town square. Quite a few people from the south are staying in town right now which is lovely. I bought some red spice powder from one of them and your father and I accidentally used too much on some chicken the other night and we were crying all evening! Your father sends his love of course. He’s out right now fixing a roof in the old town. We miss you very much but we’re happy that you’re having such an adventure! Everyone who I meet in town is always asking after you, I’m happy that I will have more news to share with them now, is this address still good for the foreseeable future? I hope the jam and honey did not spill in the box, how is the food in Freedos? Are people kind there? I remember visiting once when I was a girl but I don’t remember much of it. I don’t think I have much more news, Jenny had her baby, a happy and healthy boy. Christoff broke his arm trying to get his cat out of a tree, it looked painful but Dr Rumex was able to reset it. Everyone sends their love, we miss you lots and lots, please write back soon and come back when you can! All my love, Mum.
Lilian folded the letter and placed it on the little desk in her room as a reminder to write back as soon as possible. It had been slightly stained by a bit of fruit jam that had leaked out of a small clay pot that was stuffed in the box it came in along with a pot of thick set honey, some dried lavender and a bar of scented lye soap. She’d found two young boys outside her building that morning carrying the box and asking for anyone called Lily Lasan. She hadn’t bothered to correct them and paid four copper heads for the parcel. Reading the letter made her homesick, the memories of Benlunar’s beautiful views drifted across her mind’s eye. She glanced out of her tiny window where all she could see were a couple of chimneys and the drawn curtains of the apartment next door. The city did have its beauty spots, but the view from Lilian’s room was unfortunately not one of them. The sun was setting after a long day of work with Mr Twitchett and an evening of training with Mr Attorcop. Fritha was already curled up on the carpet and breathing heavily and Lilian could barely keep her eyes open after reading the letter. She considered penning a reply but decided it would have to wait. It had been like this for the past two weeks. She would run errands in the day for Mr Twitchett, bringing Fritha along with her most days and in the evenings she would practise fighting or gloaming with Mr Attorcop. She had managed to replicate Fritha’s invisibility only once but Lilian felt like she was getting closer and closer each time to disappearing on command. If only she wasn’t so tired all the time! On the rare occasion that she had a day off she would wake up late and wander the streets and spend the little money she made on sweet things and knick knacks for her room. The rain had washed away the Summer dust and Freedos was back to its familiar bold colours and smells. Lilian found the food in Freedos to be fresh and delicious, often made even better by expert chefs who used spices from around the world, Lilian had even managed to find a stall that sold the sour berries she had first tasted in Hundsberg, much to Fritha’s delight. Mr Attorcop’s attic was slowly transforming back to its former state. Lilian had informed him about the large quantities of explosives she sensed beneath the floorboards, but it turned out that he already knew about them, because it was him, not Helmont, who had put them there. Apparently they represented some sort of security measure, but Lilian could not think of any situation that was made more secure by adding explosives to it. They kept the vials of Nightshade hidden, unsure what to do with them. Mr Attorcop apparently had to turn a few hopeful buyers away from his door in the beginning, but once word had spread that Nightshade was no longer available at that address, they stopped coming. Genaro had not returned, which was probably a good thing, Lilian didn’t want to be held responsible for what she might do to him if she saw him again. She had managed to see Katherine, but only once during the fortnight, they had gone to a small tea shop in Bonneville and Lilian had tried vanilla tea for the first time. Lilian was remembering its sweet and calming taste as she blew out the candle on her desk. Crawling into bed she replayed the week’s events in her head, thinking about all the things she was going to tell her mother in her next letter.
The next day Lilian walked to work with Fritha, the sun was hiding behind wispy white clouds and the streets were buzzing with activity. Lilian became engrossed in watching the various shopkeepers opening their doors and blinds to let in the sun and potential customers. Today was not a market day so any trade would have to be done inside, this meant that the normally quiet shopping quarters would be thronging with nobles, locals and tourists. Lilian spotted a few young pickpockets loitering in alleyways chatting between themselves and keeping keen eyes out for any purses. Nobles from the top of the hill had a funny way of showing off just how wealthy they were by keeping their purses hanging heavily off the back of their belts. As if their brazen boasting was not enough, they dressed in bright clothes dyed in the rarest and most fashionable colours. Lilian caught sight of three young noblewomen leaving a hat shop, laughing and gossiping and each carrying a beautiful new hat. It seemed that the fashion in women’s headgear these days was to have long and garish feathers protruding from the top and back. Lilian made a mental note to tell Mr Twitchett that there might be a market here for any spare feathers he had lying around. She found herself distracted by the colours and laughing faces of the crowd. So distracted that she failed to notice that after turning down one of her regular routes to work, the crowd had become decidedly thinner. Lilian failed to see that people were avoiding this particular street and anyone walking past her in the opposite direction was doing so in a hurried fashion with their heads down. Fritha, however, did notice. She sniffed at the air as people ran past, she saw the looks on their faces and felt her old instincts begin to prickle. She stopped. Lilian was jerked backwards as she was still holding onto Fritha’s lead. She looked back in confusion and saw Fritha sitting on the cobbles and staring intently ahead. Lilian followed her gaze and only then noticed that the street was completely empty. Her attention was suddenly drawn back to Fritha who was lowering her head to the ground. Lilian noticed a ripple of blue on her chin and chest and worried that someone might notice.
“What is it?” she asked, “What’s wrong lady?” Lilian stroked her companion’s head in an effort to calm her. Using her affectionate name for her, rather than her more formal title she used when training. Suddenly, Fritha let out that familiar gong like sound.
It was deep and chilling and had Lilian not known about it before she might have looked up to see if a church was ringing its bell nearby. Lilian knew by now though that the sound meant fear, be it Fritha’s own fear or the fear of others. The sound and the emotion were so linked in her mind that it produced feelings of fear in Lilian as well. She looked about and began to notice the twitching curtains and the markedly empty shop windows. Lilian was in the wrong place. She glanced back down the street where she had come from but saw only a hand reaching out of a window two stories up to close a shutter. She began to look around for her own place to hide, knowing that hiding was necessary but without actually knowing why. And then, she saw why.
The sound of shoes on cobbles drew her attention back up to where Fritha was looking. A small group was approaching her, Lilian counted four people. She had been so caught off guard that she found herself freezing to the spot and gawking aimlessly at the group as they stepped closer and closer. There was a tall, dark man whose every step sent little ripples through the puddle in front of Lilian. His arms were big as tree trunks and his chest was as wide as a barrel. To his left was a small and graceful woman with a peculiar red mark around her left eye. Lilian could see the handles of two long blades poking out from behind her shoulders. There was another man slightly behind them but Lilian could not see his face as it was covered by the blue hood from his beautiful travelling cloak. A red gem brooch, roughly cut was pinning it together. Beside him walked a slender and dangerous looking dog with pointed ears. The man held it close to him by way of a rusted chain attached to a dirty leather collar. None of these people drew Lilian’s attention as much however as the woman who was leading them. She was striding confidently ahead, her shaved head held high and her silk blouse billowing in the wind. Lilian caught sight of a dark bird, its wings and claws outstretched in a killing swoop emblazoned across the top of her chest in dark ink. Her face was freckled and friendly looking, especially considering the wide smile she was currently brandishing in Lilian’s direction. Her heeled boots clicked across the cobbles in effortless grace as she swung her bejeweled fingers in wide arcs by her side. She was the only one of the group that was smiling but all of them were looking at Lilian, including the black dog, as they walked past her. The dog growled a low rumble at Fritha but Lilian was too distracted by the lead woman to pay it any attention. The tattooed leader suddenly gave Lilian a cheeky wink as she went by and in a hoarse voice said,
“Cute pooch.”
For the rest of the day Lilian could not get the image of that group out of her head. She’d asked Mr Twitchett about who he thought they might be and why the street had cleared so quickly in anticipation of their arrival. Unfortunately he did not recognise any of them from Lilian’s descriptions and he became distracted by a customer before Lilian could pursue the issue further. Fortunately Mr Attorcop proved more illuminating on the subject. Lilian mentioned the group to him while he was measuring out a greyish liquid into a few glass dishes. Lilian often arrived at his attic before he’d finished his work for the day and whenever this happened they would chat about trivial things or Mr Attorcop would test her on her history or philosophy. On this occasion he seemed to be very distracted and so was not talking much as he worked. When Lilian described the lead woman however he nearly dropped the beaker he was holding and had to gently place it down before turning to Lilian.
“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Does that mean you know who she is?”
“I do,” he replied, nodding, “her name is Tazial Bried. And she is a very dangerous and nasty woman.” The name rang a big bell in Lilian’s head. Bried.
“I’ve heard of her. Isn’t she some sort of underworld, boss, gangster woman?”
“She is all of those things.” Lilian thought for a second and remembered her friendly, smiling face.
“She didn’t seem nasty.” she said.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one Lilian.” replied Mr Attorcop as he turned back to his work.
“You know, people said you were nasty when I first met you.” remarked Lilian.
“I am nasty.” Lilian laughed.
“Nah. You’re just misunderstood.” Mr Attorcop did not reply to this.
“What are you doing there?” Lilian tried to look over his shoulder at the little glass dishes he was filling with grey solution.
“When I was in that horrible forest I managed to swipe a bit of soil and keep it in my pockets. I wanted to find out what kind of properties it possessed, seeing as my keeper was able to dig out fresh food from beneath it at a moment’s notice.” He pointed to a small reed-woven basket on the edge of the table that was filled with dark brown, almost black earth. “It doesn’t seem to be anything special but then last night I had an idea. What if I combined some of the lunar essence with the soil? Something so filled with energy mixing with something so devoid of life might produce interesting results.”
“And…” asked Lilian.
“So far, inconclusive. But the essence does seem to have lasted a much longer time in the solution than when just out of its vial and exposed to air.” Mr Attorcop pointed to a small beaker to his left that had a thin layer of what looked like water at the bottom of it. Lilian assumed this to be a control beaker. Lilian took the basket of earth and peered inside, it looked like moist earth and crumbled at her touch. It smelt like decaying damp, like the smell you might find in an old basement that had flooded a few months ago. Lilian wrinkled her nose and put it back.
“It’s actually quite interesting.” Lilian looked back to Mr Attorcop, it was hard to tell if he was ever excited by anything, but today Lilian did notice it by the slight speed in his speech and how he would occasionally blink rapidly. “This is by far the longest I’ve ever seen the essence last outside of the Kerakis glass.”
“How long has it been?” asked Lilian.
“Four hours.” Lilian’s eyes widened. The grey liquid in the dishes was still quite clearly energised by the essence. It was thick and shimmering and ever moving like thick broth above a flame. Lilian found the movement mesmerising and she was staring at it for a good while before she thought of a question.
“Have you tried using it for any gloaming?” Mr Attorcop shook his head. “What about, tasting it?” Mr Attorcop shot her a quizzical look. “You know. Don’t you sometimes drink essence when you use it?”
“On occasion.” he replied.
“Well, this must taste pretty horrible if it's got dirt in it.” Lilian didn’t mean to burst his proverbial bubble but she did notice Mr Attorcop’s face fall a little when she mentioned drinking dirt.
“Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out…” Lilian stepped back to watch him work. Mr Attorcop took one of the small glass dishes containing the grey solution with his left hand and placed his right hand, fingers open, palm down over the dish. A look of intense concentration fell over his face. Lilian saw a small vein in his forehead begin to pulse with effort.
“I shall try and produce the moonblade.” he whispered so softly that Lilian almost didn’t hear him. They looked at the grey liquid. It continued to shift and move just as it always had done. Lilian began to worry that the experiment was a failure when slowly a dark and shimmering handle began to rise from the dish, Mr Attorcop placed his hand comfortably around it and lifted it up, pulling out a long blade from the dish as he did. The metal was noticeably darker than that of the blade Mr Attorcop had given Lilian to fight with that afternoon against Helmont. Mr Attorcop put the dish down and stepped away from the table to give the blade a few practise swings.
“How is it?” asked Lilian.
“A little heavier than normal.” he replied, swinging it in a wide arc over his head. “But it’s still well balanced and seems sharp enough.” He looked back at the desk, specifically at an empty part near the edge. “Stand back.” Lilian took a couple of steps towards the stairs and turned to watch Mr Attorcop step back, raise the blade in an attacking stance and swiftly lunge towards the table. The dark metal streaked a black flash through the air and Lilian heard a loud crack as Mr Attorcop brought it down on the wood of the desk. He had clearly meant to embed the blade in the wood to test its strength, and Lilian even thought at first that he had succeeded. But on closer inspection she saw that it was the blade that had made the noise and had apparently shattered into 6 different pieces. One was still skidding across the floorboards as she heard Mr Attorcop curse under his breath.
“It’s not as reactive as pure essence, and clearly not as strong.” Despite the obvious failure he turned to Lilian with a smile on his face.
“But this is progress! Certainly the most significant step since discovering the glass, and that was a long time ago.” He began to pick up the pieces of the sword and Lilian went to help him. They were cold to the touch and were almost back to their liquid state by the time Lilian placed them in the glass dish.
“What do you think it needs?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps some kind of reacting agent. Something to bring out the power of the essence without nullifying the preservative effects of the soil.” He turned to look down at Lilian. “Miss Lausanne.” he said, standing up straight, “I think we need to go shopping.”
Lilian looked on in confusion as Mr Attorcop grabbed one of his dark cloaks, a brown and black wax cotton travelling cloak with a silver chain, and threw it over his shoulders with a flourish as he prepared to go outside. This was confusing to Lilian because it was evening and most shops in Freedos tended to close around mid afternoon. Not knowing how long they would be, Lilian whispered to Fritha to stay and be patient (which Fritha seemed to welcome as she hastily jumped onto Mr Attorcop’s bed, tired from the day’s walking). She then hastily followed Mr Attorcop who was already halfway down the twisting stairwell.
Lilian had trouble keeping up with him as he strode confidently up the hill. They walked past terraced houses with increasingly ornate iron wrought balconies. Lilian recognised the path they were taking as one leading to Leuhta, a rather nice part of Freedos that mainly comprised of houses belonging to lesser nobles and their families. Lilian had delivered a few pieces for Mr Twitchett in this area, including a white cat and a rather smart looking otter. The noble families enjoyed showing off their heritage to each other and one way they did this was by using animals. Land-owning families used to have sigils, often depicting animals, painted onto their banners and shields. It was a way of identifying them on the battlefield. These days the battles between families were no longer fought with swords, but rather with deceitful actions and cutting words. Sometimes families that came into new money had to look very hard amongst the city records to find evidence of any sigils and animals from the past that they could associate with their names. Lilian suspected the family who stuffed the otter might have had to invent their animal from scratch.
Lilian continued to follow Mr Attorcop until they turned a corner and found themselves in a small square. The stone paved area was so small that it could barely be called a square, it was more of a courtyard but instead of just one entrance it had doors and steps on all three sides. In the centre was a small statue of a woman sitting on a rock, she had long intricately carved hair only slightly worn away by the rain and instead of legs she had the tail of a fish. Lilian suppressed a giggle. She looked ridiculous.
“Lilian?” Suddenly, there was a voice behind her saying her name. She whipped round to see Katherine coming down the steps leading up to an ornate black door with brass detailing. The house was thin but three floors tall. The windows were framed in white painted wood and Lilian could see lace curtains lining the inside.
“Katherine!” she shouted, smiling. Mr Attorcop turned to see who she was addressing.
“Do you live here??” asked Lilian in astonishment. Katherine laughed as she walked across the sloping street to the little courtyard.
“Goodness no. This is where I work.” Lilian remembered how Katherine was the governess to a noble family. She wanted to give her a big hug but quickly realised that she was being rude by not doing introductions.
“Katherine this is Cromwell Attorcop, Cromwell, this is Mrs Katherine Brown.” Lilian watched them as they bowed the socially appropriate half bow.
“A pleasure Mrs Brown.”
“Likewise Mr Attorcop. I’ve heard much about you from our mutual friend here.” Lilian couldn’t stop smiling. This was a strange and funny experience. They were both such different people and yet Lilian held them both in such high esteem she found herself saying a little prayer inside her head that they would like each other as much as she liked them both separately. She felt suddenly worried that each of them might judge her for the odd company she kept when not in their presence. But they were smiling. That was a good sign surely?
“May I ask what brings you to Luehta quarter?” asked Katherine. Lilian blurted out,
“We’re going shopping!” Before realising that this might be information Mr Attorcop had wanted to keep a secret. Lilian wondered why she was being so ridiculous in front of her friends.
“Shopping?” wondered Katherine looking around at the distinct lack of shops, “Where?” Lilian looked to Mr Attorcop as she had been wondering the same thing. Mr Attorcop looked a little sheepish and glanced around before speaking in a hushed voice.
“My lady, we are seeking certain unsavoury folk who sell certain substances and items not fully approved by the state. Nothing illegal you understand, just too dangerous to be sold openly in Checkhad market. I should not like to mix one so refined as yourself up in such a low business.” For the first time Lilian understood how Mr Attorcop was able to run his business of power. He effortlessly guided conversations while making everyone feel at ease, offering possibility with one hand while snatching away suspicion with the other. Katherine smiled and shot Lilian a little wink.
“Good sir you mistake me for a noble lady of soft sensibilities. Rest assured I do not swoon at the sight of Freedos’ rough underbelly. I’m intrigued rather, might I join you both in your illicit mission?” Lilian’s head swivelled back to Mr Attorcop, it was like watching a game of back and ball between two champions. She looked pleadingly at him, willing him to agree.
“My lady I would welcome your company. Be sure to stay close to Lilian here, she will act as your personal guard should the situation become dangerous.” Lilian smiled and Katherine linked arms with her in mock fear. They both watched Mr Attorcop turn back to the square with an analytical gaze. He looked at the statue and then left and right, he looked like he was trying to remember a detail he’d memorised some years ago.
In the blink of an eye he was off, walking towards the back of the square, where there was a tall bush cut into the form of a diving fish. The tree was just big enough to hide all three of them from sight of the main street and any prying eyes from the windows above. Katherine and Lilian exchanged confused looks as there was clearly nothing here that resembled a shop. There was just a corner where two brickwork walls met. Mr Attorcop studied them for just a second before glancing back to check no one was watching. He then raised his right hand and knocked on the brick wall. He knocked twice, paused and then knocked again. Lilian had expected the bricks to absorb the sound and for his knocks to only produce a stony thud. But each strike sounded more like the tapping of wood. After a quiet and tense half minute there was a click and a large section of the brick work swung open. Lilian’s eyes widened in amazement at the intricacy and detail of the facade. In the opening, one hand resting on the open cover, was a young man. Probably only a few years older than Lilian he looked at the three of them with clever green eyes. A quick jerk of his head signalled that they were to enter.
Lilian, Katherine and Mr Attorcop stepped over the threshold and began walking down a small, rickety wooden staircase. The lad followed them after shutting the false wall. The stairs creaked under their collective weight and Lilian worried about getting splinters from the unfinished banister. Flickering candles lit their descent into a large basement. Mr Attorcop had to stoop to avoid hitting the beams.
“I’ll just ask that you keep your voices down while you’re here.” said the boy in a tone barely above a whisper. He stood in front of them and pointed at the ceiling, “Upstairs don’t really know about this place.” They all nodded and Lilian began to look about. The room was lit exclusively by candles and the scent and smoke of their wax filled the air. They illuminated several shelving units around the edges of the room, all erected tightly against the brick walls. Every shelf housed a myriad of jars, baskets, boxes and containers all of which contained different substances and materials. Lilian saw a glass jar filled with bones, a box with a label that said ‘deadly dapperling’ and even a small bottle filled with blue liquid with a fading ticket round its neck that read ‘do not gargle’. She was just examining a jar that had a familiar looking multicoloured fur in it when the soft sound of a muted woman’s voice drew her attention to a doorway behind a makeshift counter.
“Hello Cromwell. Long time.”
“Good evening Katrina.” The soft voice belonged to a short, red haired woman dressed in a lavish lime green gown. She held a fan that was a similar colour to her dress, which had tiny gems and stones detailing its ornate lace. Lilian smiled at seeing someone with the same hair colour as her, she hadn’t realised how rare it was in this city.
“I see you’ve brought friends. Welcome to the rare flower market. Please don’t touch anything, Pete, be a darling and fetch our guests a drink.” She flicked her fan towards the boy and he rushed to the doorway behind her with a, “Yes mum.”
“Lilian,” Mr Attorcop was gesturing for Lilian to come over. “I’d like you to meet Katrina Sturgeon. A friend and someone who will help you if I’m ever, indisposed again.”
Lilian bowed graciously, “A pleasure Ma’am.” Katrina pretended to blush.
“I like this one Cromwell. Quite the little lady.” Perhaps it was the smoky atmosphere or the strange intoxicating smells, but Lilian was charmed. She felt her face grow redder and redder as Katrina complemented her clothes and hair.
“You know I have a root that will bring out the red colour even more, only 6 silver bits per stone.” Lilian was interested but Mr Attorcop cut the deal short.
“Would you mind if we discussed business Kat?”
“Cromwell,” she replied, in mock disappointment, “Always so serious. Very well then, what do you need?” Lilian drifted away from the grown ups to go and explore the shelves with Katherine. After a few minutes the boy, apparently called Pete, brought out a sweet green tea that they sipped while listening to him explain the fascinating properties of various mushrooms.
“This whole wall is mushrooms. Mostly they’ll just make you sick but this.” He pointed to a glass bottle with some dried green strands of plant in it, “That will make you sick just by touching it. It’s literally called puke weed.” Katherine and Lilian laughed at the name and recoiled at the thought of touching it. Pete’s knowledge was encyclopedic, he even gave the Dormese names for a lot of the herbs and powders he showed off. After the tour Mr Attorcop approached them holding several net bags filled with thick paper packages and signalling that it was time to go.
“Little Lilian,” Katrina’s voice drew Lilian’s attention as she started walking back up the stairs. She turned to see the glamorous woman handing her a short orange stick, no bigger than her finger. “Just crumble it into the bath and soak your hair for a few minutes.” Lilian beamed as she took it,
“Thank you very much. But, I’m afraid I have no money…”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Katrina said, waving the comment away with her fan, “A little gift from me.” Lilian smiled, and pocketed it.
The three of them said goodbye and left the rare flower market as quietly as they came in, clicking the wall shut behind them and breathing in the fresh evening air. Lilian felt as though she had been on some grand adventure, the memories of all the sights and smells mixing into one sensory explosion in her head. Katherine chatted excitedly all the way down the hill.
“And did you see all the materials? Do you know how hard it is to find Spider silk in Freedos, I haven’t seen any in years. She must charge a fortune, what did you say her name was? Sturgeon?” Mr Attorcop gestured with his hands for Katherine to keep her voice low.
“Yes, she is an old friend. One of the good ones, but you’re right, she is a ruthless profiteer and charges outrageous prices. Lilian I believe that is the first time I’ve ever seen her give someone anything for free. You know… if you ever needed any extra cash, a few of Fritha’s hairs would probably sell quite well and she would only charge a small commission.” Lilian wishes she’d known that when she had been half starved but felt odd about cutting away any of Fritha’s beautiful coat.
“Katrina Sturgeon…” Katherine was still musing, “Hold on.” she said, dropping her voice so as not to be heard by a couple walking up towards them, “Kat Sturgeon, she’s not… She’s not the Catfish is she?” Lilian didn’t know what this meant, but she turned to see Mr Attorcop suppress a smile.
“I’m afraid I’ve no idea what you mean my lady.” Katherine’s smile faded a little and her face went pale. Lilian was about to ask about the revelation when they reached Mr Attorcop’s door. The journey back had been surprisingly short, probably because most of it had been downhill.
“Would you like to see Fritha?” Lilian asked Katherine, knowing how fond she was of her companion.
“Oh I would, do you mind if I come up?”
“Not at all, it will be nice to have that creature slobber over someone else’s clothes for once.” They all laughed as Mr Attorcop went to unlock his door. Suddenly he froze, staring in shock at the lock. Lilian looked down to see that the wood surrounding the lock was splintered and broken. Mr Attorcop touched the handle lightly and the door swung open with ease.
“Get behind me.” He spoke with urgency and fear. Katherine and Lilian did as they were told, sensing the worry in his voice. He reached into the depths of his cloak and Lilian heard the familiar pop signifying the unstoppering of a bottle of lunar essence. The next instant Mr Attorcop was brandishing the moon blade out in front of him and running up the stairwell two stairs at a time. Lilian followed quickly behind and was out of breath by the time she reached the attic. The door at the top of the stairs was still not fully fixed from when Mr Attorcop had smashed through it, so Lilian pushed the remnants easily aside. She was met with a site of destruction. Glass beakers lay shattered and scattered everywhere, covering the floor in sharp shards and splatters of liquid. The desks were broken, the bed was cut to ribbons, but Lilian ignored all of it. She only had eyes for one thing, the sad and bloodied body of an animal lying in the middle of the floor. She ran over and knelt beside it, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry but all she could do was utter two, terrible words.
“Fritha. No…”
Benlunar - Episode 29
We find out what happened to Mr Attorcop after his disappearance.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasite
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
“I don’t remember much from the latter part of that night. I remember the farm and the day we spent preparing and fighting. I remember one of the mercenaries was injured and I had to help him. We were outnumbered and thankful for the carts that would take us to safety. You were on one, I remember seeing your face disappearing into the distance. I tried to join you, I tried to jump onto the cart but… I was stopped. My body was petrified and I felt that thing’s twisted fingers freeze my muscles and hold me still. It whispered to me. It said that it had come to collect and that I owed it for a favour. This was true of course and I didn’t fight it, that would only have made things worse. What worried me more was the thugs that had been chasing us, but when they saw it they ran away as quickly as they had come.
I don’t remember leaving but I was suddenly somewhere else. I was walking and it was raining. Grey, leafless trees flanked the sodden path which was illuminated by a dark, dying sun. That thing, the demon was walking slightly ahead of me and I spoke out to ask where we were going. It turned and smiled. I shudder still at the memory of it. They are strange creatures and it is no wonder humanity has long cast them into the realm of nightmares. It gave no answer. I could hear the damp and decaying cloth it used to cover itself scraping along the ashen road behind it. It left a strange indent as it walked, like a slug might leave a sickly sticky trail as evidence of its passing. Like a slug too it seemed to slither rather than step, although I did detect the occasional footfall through its shabby garb. I had no choice but to follow, for running at that point would have been foolish. I had no idea where, or even when I was. I assumed it to be some realm or place where demons roam or call home. I had caught glimpses of such places when making my deals with them in the past, but seeing the hint of a shadow and actually being there were two very different experiences.
The rain fell incessantly, it was cold and seemed oddly thicker than mere water. I was careful not to let any fall in my mouth. The floor was covered in ash and what looked like dead leaves. There was no colour in the forest, I remember looking at my hands just so that I would not forget what life looked like. The monotonous decay was... maddening. It reminded me of a forest after a great fire had passed through it. But even in the midst of such an inferno one could look up and catch a glimpse of blue sky or red flame. There was no such hope here. The sky was scorched brown and grey and even the words ‘life’ or ‘love’ would seem out of place when leaving lips, which they never did.
After what felt like hours, but may have been minutes, we reached a clearing in the trees. In the clearing there was some strange altar. It stood tall as two men and was constructed of dead wood. I saw the skull of a deer at its peak and several other smaller bones littered around the construct. Had it been found in this world I would have called it a place of worship, but the act of reverence here seemed too pure to exist. It was merely a place, perhaps a point of interest or even just a spot different enough from the surrounding area so as to be distinguished from the forest. I watched the demon crawl around, sniffing and gathering twigs and bones and placing them on the central structure. The act reminded me of those path markers we would pass on the road up to Benlunar’s peak. The piles of stones that we would add to, just to tell future travellers that we had been there. After it was satisfied with its “offering” it sat down and bade me sit opposite it. As you know I am no lover of dirt and grime and so was hesitant to even touch the ground. But I sat a while and waited.
Demons are strange things, not because of their appearance (although strange would be the kindest word to describe that), no they are strange because they are very hard to read or predict. They are like children in this way. It sat and stared at me, at least I think it was staring at me for its face was thankfully shrouded, and for all I knew it might have been waiting for me to speak or to die. I have dealt with their kind before but this one seemed especially odd to me. I elected to wait and let it break the silence which it did after just a few minutes.
“So now we ask the question.” Its voice was cold and sad. I had an idea of what it meant but did not want to interrupt.
“You know by now Cromwell,” it continued, “that you are here to pay your debt to me. I have elected to remove you and allow you to pay me in time. But the question remains.” I understood fully then and responded by saying
“How much time here was your favour worth?” I caught a glimpse of rotted teeth through the rain and dimness, the demon was smiling and nodding. I considered the question. “Of course,” I said, “we should also consider the circumstances surrounding my capture.” It nodded again.
“They have been considered and were chosen intentionally.” Then it laughed its chilling guttural chuckle. It knew what it had done, it had waited patiently for a moment of vulnerability and it acted without hesitation. You were as much a victim of its intervention as I was, a fact that I reminded it of quickly. It was met with a similar answer. My primary concern was that it might wish to keep me there for a hundred years, for a human lifetime might only be the blink of an eye for one so old and wretched. I asked if it knew the result of the favour it granted me, it said that it had seen the circle and Kissandra’s fate after stepping into it. I breathed a small sigh of relief, for if it had thought that I had killed Kissandra then a life for a life might have seemed like a fair trade. I thought for a while and then we began our negotiations.
I would argue that I offered Kissandra mercy and that although my own death was avoided surely a few hours would be more than enough payment. I offer you here a tactic when it comes to negotiating anything: never give the first offer, try and guide your counterpart into making an offer and then calmly say that you are sorry but that their offer is quite impossible for you to comply with. Now you might at this point think that I had no advantage, no cards to play and nothing hidden up my sleeve. But you would be wrong. It’s true that I was a captive, held against my will in a dark and desolate land with no means of escape. You might think that under these circumstances I would simply have to accept any offer the demon gave, as it surely had control over my every move. But this was not the case. The creature had not said much, but even in its few words it managed to show its hand. The demon wanted to negotiate. And that was it. It wanted to play the game. It had no interest in keeping me there, a mute prisoner for years and years. Torture was not its goal. It had taken me away from you at a crucial moment knowing that I would want to get back as soon as possible. That was its first move in the game. A simple one to counteract. Whenever he mentioned you or Freedos or the living world in general I would shrug and pretend to admire the forest or the sculpture, I even said once how impressed I was at its construction. I needed it to believe that I would be happy to spend years in this place and that no pressing matters awaited me in this world. Fortunately, the act was not a hard one. I have trained you, taught you and watched you become a confident and competent person. So truly, in my heart, I did not worry about you or your safety. The demon sensed this, and grew angry. Another mistake on its part.
“If you like this place so much, then you are welcome to stay here for a decade. 10 of your stupid human years that you all watch slip by so zealously.” And there I had my first offer. I pretended to consider it and shook my head gravely.
“I’m sorry.” I said, “but that is not going to be possible. How am I to survive?” I asked looking around, “my offer of a few hours was generous enough seeing as there is no fresh water, or food here.” At this the creature smiled again.
“Sustenance can be provided.” It said. I explained that I would need proof of this before agreeing to anything. This seemed to further irritate it, which I took as another victory. It tried to wriggle out of it and even had the gall to ask me to trust it but I refused to continue negotiations without proof of my survival and well being. Finally it acquiesced. Standing and shuffling over to the strange sculpture, it began to scrape at the dirt beneath it. I watched its long, dextrous fingers move piles of mud and muck aside. After just a few seconds of this it revealed a fish. Dead and perfectly cooked. The air was thick with its delicious scent and I suddenly realised just how hungry I was. I was sure to not look too impressed as it offered it to me as proof along with a large hollow nut that was filled with fresh water. I went to take the fish but the demon pulled it away. It said that negotiations were still underway but I explained that all the negotiation in the world would not save me from a poison fish. I had to eat the entire thing and drink the water and wait to see if they had any ill effects on me before continuing with any negotiation. Once again the demon protested, it even went so far as to threaten me with violence, but I said nothing. Frustrated, it let me eat the fish, which was exceptional by the way, and drink the water and even wait an hour in silence after I’d finished, to see if I had any cramps or pains. I did not. The whole time I kept watch on the demon and saw it growing increasingly irritated. Its fingers would twitch, its shroud would ruffle. These were small details, near imperceptible, but they had not been there while we had been talking and so I knew my refusal to speak was getting under its skin. Another victory. I told you that what it seemed to want more than anything was to negotiate. I wager that had I simply tried talking my way out, I would have ended up agreeing to 20 or 30 years in that horrible place. But I refused to engage. I played games, I waited in silence to digest fish and it got increasingly bothered by me. And then I got my first big win. It broke the silence by saying,
“You see then. You will survive here. 10 years on fine food and clean water.” I shook my head and simply replied,
“I’m very sorry, but I cannot agree to that. The fish was rubbery and bland and I’m not about to give you 10 years for mere survival. I am alive and I must live, not just survive. If I had known that I were to spend the next decade merely surviving then I would have let Kissandra put her knife in my neck.” It clenched its hand into a tight ball, I could hear leathery squeaks as its skin rubbed together.
“Five years then. More than fair when you consider how I saved your life.” And there it was. It had dropped its offer once and so I became confident I could get it to drop it a further 3 or 4 times before having to concede. And so I shook my head.
“I’m so sorry. It’s true that I am grateful for your help in saving me. But 5 years in this place with nothing to do, that can hardly be called a fair trade. I should require writing materials so that I can continue my work, regular updates on my friends so that I know they are safe, a bed so that I can sleep, perhaps an animal companion to stave off insanity.” And so my list continued, I needed it to believe that I would not agree to any amount of time without an outrageous list of demands, it had already produced a fish for me, why not other things? I spoke for so long that finally it had to interrupt me.
“You ask too much!” It said, “All these comforts. You show no gratitude, may I remind you that you breathe and live solely from a gift I have given thee? Five years is more than generous.” I snorted in derision. I looked around and said,
“Five years with everything on my list, perhaps.” I pretended to consider the offer. I needed the demon to believe I was close to agreeing to something. And then I got my next big victory.
“Very well. Two years. No list.” It said. 8 years shaved off a sentence in a matter of minutes, not too bad, I thought, but I could do better. The key was not to upset it so much that it retracted its offer.
“Two years in exchange for a life is a generous offer indeed.” It smiled again, tasting victory on its pale tongue. “But I’m afraid I cannot possibly agree to that.” Its expression fell. From what I could see of its eyes through the wet mesh of material that covered its face, they seemed almost upset.
“You insult me Cromwell. After all I have done for you. I should walk into the wood and leave you to rot! Why not take this generous offer?”
“Because the deal is too far in your favour.” I replied, “Consider the facts. You gave me a few secrets and a chance to outwit a rather dim assassin. And in return I am to give you my conversation, my company, my intellect, my secrets, my wisdom and my cunning for 2 years!” I considered spitting on the floor but thought better of it. Instead I just leaned back, shaking my head. “No.” I said. You must understand that none of this was real. I really had nothing to bargain with so I was forced to invent my own worth. Luckily this is something I have been doing my entire life and so the lies came naturally. We waited then. Staring at each other, unflinching. My nerve nearly broke, I could have sworn that at any moment the demon would see straight through me and go back to keeping me there for 10 years or perhaps longer. I was playing a dangerous game. But I had to keep playing. I was close to something reasonable, I could sense it. I just needed to stare it down a while longer. Give it no quarter. Just a little while I thought. And then the demon spoke.
“You are a frustrating man Cromwell. What’s to stop me from leaving you here, hm?” I said nothing. We both knew that the only thing stopping it was its word. Lucky for me I realised that up until now the demon had kept its promises on every count. Duplicitous as they may be, demons seem to be particular about keeping oaths for some reason. I believe it has something to do with the ways they garner power or maybe even life. I never thought to ask, I dared not even speak. I knew that if I was to get out of that dead forest quickly then I would have to play its game and that meant that I needed it to negotiate against itself. You’ll notice how I had yet to offer any concrete time of my own, save the suggestion of a vague ‘few hours’ at the beginning of the conversation. I had to find out what the absolute minimum amount of time the demon would be happy with, and I could not do that by speaking. So I waited.
“Aaaaargh! Six months then. This is my final offer.” Said the demon. I considered this.
“Truly a kindness.” I replied. “Six months with all the appropriate furnishing from my list and I might be willing to settle on this.”
“I said no list. Just food and water.” The demon practically snapped at me. I had found a useful triviality that for some reason the demon desperately wanted to avoid. Most likely to increase my suffering. And so I shook my head.
“Ah then I’m afraid I must decline. Six months in relative solitude with papers, a desk, a bed a cat, a kettle and chemistry equipment might have been manageable. But all that time with nothing is simply unreasonable.” The time had come for me to offer a counter offer, something believable but far beneath what I was ready to commit.
“With none of these things I shall stay here for 2 days.” The demon threw its head back and cackled. Or at least I think that’s what it was doing. Judging solely from the sound, it could have been shrieking in pain. Finally it looked back to me and simply said.
“Three months.”
“Six days.”
“Three weeks.”
“Done.”
Mr Attorcop set down his small glass of plum liquor and looked around the inn. The sun had long set and the place was filled with quiet groups crowded around card games and hushed conversations. Lilian had barely touched her sweet tea, having been too engrossed in Mr Attorcop’s story. She had many questions, but asked the most pressing one first.
“If you only stayed there three weeks…”
“Then why did I take so long to get here? A final trick on the part of the demon. I think it felt slighted by our deal and so decided to finally lead me out of the dead woods and deposit me several days north of Freedos. It was my own fault for not stipulating this in our deal. It took me quite some time to find out where I was as the only people I could find did not even speak my language and I did not recognise theirs. Finally I found a caravan of traders and they pointed me in the right direction.” Lilian was glad that he had managed to escape that strange place without paying too high a price. She then got up from their table to buy another couple of drinks, remembering this time to actually drink hers while it was hot. A small fire crackled in the hearth of the Dim Candle’s main room, despite the fact that it was the height of Summer. Rain was falling in the streets outside and a chilling wind rattled the shutters. Occasionally the fire would hiss as a stray rain drop fell onto it through the chimney. Lilian had never been here before, she liked how the walls were painted a bright yellow and the staff were mostly smiley young people rather than the surly, jaded innkeepers she had found in other public houses. The atmosphere was what she enjoyed the most however and after just an hour she could see why it was one of Mr Attorcop’s favourite places. Lilian set down the glasses and Fritha looked up from the floor expectantly, going back to sleep when she didn’t get any food. At that point it was Lilian’s turn to tell her story. Mr Attorcop seemed particularly interested in her progress with gloaming, especially what had happened the night before his arrival.
“You’re sure he looked straight at you?” he asked. Lilian nodded.
“He couldn’t have missed me had I not been… hidden. I want to try and do it again, but I should probably have supervision next time.” Mr Attorcop took a sip of his drink and looked at her.
“Yes I should like to see that. I’ll supervise and help where I can. I actually managed to develop some new techniques of my own whilst in the dead woods. It was a good place for gloaming as all life there had been leached away.” Lilian’s eyes widened.
“Is that where you learned how to do that thing with the black liquid?” Mr Attorcop nodded.
“Yes. Quite a powerful technique but only really useful in an enclosed space with an ally close by. It also used up a fair amount of essence so I shan’t be repeating it in a hurry.”
“Was the demon interested in gloaming?”
“Not really. It has its own brand of power and truth be told after we had finished negotiating it seemed to grow bored of me. It would disappear periodically and return only to give me food and talk to me about various mundane things. We did have quite a good chat about medicinal herbs once, did you know milk thistle can be used to treat toothache?” Lilian shook her head.
A silence crept over the inn. Not an uncomfortable one, not an awkward or unwelcome silence. Rather, it was the silence of contentment. Lilian breathed in a long and calming breath. The rain continued to fall outside, which, while not adding to the silence, did help to create the calm and contented atmosphere. Lilian reached down and touched Fritha’s ears under the table. She sipped her tea and felt its warmth flow through her. Mr Attorcop rubbed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He seemed tired. Lilian told him about Katherine and William, about how kind they had been and how much she owed them for their kindness. She wondered if Mr Attorcop had any close friends in Freedos, but thought that the question might be a little too personal for this occasion. The conversation moved onto the city itself and they discussed the various trials and tribulations affecting the capitol.
“Did you mean what you said the other night?” Lilian had been meaning to ask this for quite some time.
“About what?”
“About…” Lilian looked around and lowered her voice. “About killing the Empress.”
“Oh…” Mr Attorcop sat back in thought. “Well. It would certainly serve her right. But I’m not sure it would fix everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Consider this. The Empress is the leader of Freedos and the surrounding areas, but it takes more than one woman to run a city, let alone an entire country. So any wrongs she might commit would be perpetuated by hundreds of others. Even you and I are complicit in some of them by merely existing and paying our taxes to the state. Now you might argue that we don’t have much of a choice but there are other states, other countries. We could go to live in Doma for example. Now Doma and Freedos have been at war for years and it's largely thanks to the diplomacy of the Empress that we don’t have Domese soldiers marching up and down this very street. So it could be said that the Empress does some good as well. But understand this. Suffering is suffering. And when those in power do not use that power to end suffering when and where they can, then they are complicit in its cause. Add onto this that poor people’s suffering actually benefits those in power and you’ve got a glimpse of the political situation of Freedos.” Lilian considered this for a while before asking,
“How does suffering benefit people in power?”
“Politicians, nobles and rich people in general make their living off of those who have very little money. Consider that tea you’re drinking.” Lilian looked down at her cup.
“That tea can only be grown in the searing heat of the south. One family owns almost every crop and they pay people very little money to harvest it. They then sell it in every city and settlement in Alicium and pocket the profits. Whenever anyone demands more pay or better working conditions they are either beaten, thrown onto the streets or worse. And if they DID decide to pay people more money then their profits would be slashed to ribbons. This would make a lot of investors very angry. Occasionally, someone in politics suggests that the working conditions be improved and suddenly they receive gifts and gems and precious things and after a few weeks their ideals and convictions suddenly become less and less important. This isn’t just true for tea you understand. This is how the entire system works. You saw for yourself that the state will even invest time and money in dangerous chemicals just to find out who is likely to cause trouble. Those people then either die or are put in prison where, amongst other things, they are told to harvest...tea.” Lilian swallowed a large gulp, the sweet tea suddenly tasting bitter on her tongue.
“That’s awful.” she said.
“That’s life.” he replied. And the two sat once again in silence. Only the silence was different now. It was heavy with injustice. Mr Attorcop must have noticed Lilian’s pained expression.
“Honestly Lilian, it doesn’t bear worrying about. We have no control over this system, it was born long before any of us and will survive long after we are gone. Ever since the existence of wealth there has been disparity. The only thing to defy the laws of nature and flow uphill is money.”
Lilian thought of the noble houses she had visited on errands for Mr Twitchett. She had marvelled at their marble floors, wondered at the wonderful flowers that adorned their halls. She did not realise then but she had envied those people. She only ever met servants but pictured the nobles now in their fine clothes sitting by their own private fires and drinking their tea steeped in the sweat of their labourers.
“But there are people who are fighting the Empress aren’t there? Isn’t that what Genaro is doing, him and the, oh what was their name, the sons of… Taymar!” Mr Attorcop raised a single eyebrow.
“The sons of Taymar are about as effective as a wet towel. They’re the children of nobles with nothing better to do than annoy their parents and play at revolutionaries. Eventually they all get jobs in father’s company and give up their rebellious tendencies.” Lilian detected more than a hint of spite in his tone. Did Mr Attorcop have experience with this group? She watched him drain his little glass and wince at the burning liquid.
“The hardest part about real change is that no one really wants it.” Lilian cocked her head. She found that hard to believe. In her short time in the city she had witnessed homelessness, thievery and threats from the very people sworn to protect its citizens.
“Think about it.” Mr Attorcop continued, “The whole system is based on a promise. A promise that anyone could one day become a noble. If they just work hard enough, or have a great idea, or start a big company, they too can have a big house on top of the hill. Anyone who comes along and says, ‘excuse me, but isn’t there enough money in the world to allow everyone to have a big house?’ they get punched in the face and told to mind their own business. They’re seen as thieves trying to take your hard earned gold and put it in the pockets of some lazy layabout.” Lilian wasn’t buying a word of it.
“I’ve never had any money, and the one piece of gold I did have I used to protect that family. If I can do it…”
“You’re a child.” Mr Attorcop snapped at her. Lilian was taken aback. In all their time together he had never raised his voice or said an angry word to her. The rain began to fall harder against the window pane. Mr Attorcop took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry Lilian. I should not raise my voice. You’re right of course. You did a noble thing that day. And yes, if everyone felt as you did then we might all be better off. But you are young. You’ve always been cared for and had your financial needs met by others. Now if someone had given you that crown when you were so hungry that day in the Freedos market, would you have spent it on helping a tired and hungry family? Or would you have spent it on food and lodgings for yourself?” Lilian felt tears building in her eyes. It was true. She cast her memory back to that time and realised that she would not even have thought twice about feeding herself and finding a warm bed. It was pure luck and coincidence that Katherine had recognised her and offered to help. Had she earned or been given her own money, Lilian would not have done the same. The two sat in a third silence. A silence of resignation, shame and powerlessness.
“So…” Lilian finally spoke, “Killing the Empress would serve her right for making so many people suffer. But it wouldn’t change the fact that people suffer.” Mr Attorcop raised his glass in silent agreement.
“It would send a message though.” she said. Mr Attorcop snorted.
“Indeed it would.”
“It would tell noble people that our suffering did not go without consequence. It would tell everyone that no matter how powerful you become, you’re still human.” Mr Attorcop narrowed his eyes.
“Lilian, you’re not actually suggesting...”
“You were the one who suggested it! All I’m saying is that IF anyone was to accomplish such a thing it would have to be done by a very small group with rather a lot of their own kind of power.” Lilian let the suggestion sit there. Like a terrible secret or the revelation of a betrayal. It was conspiracy. It was treason. It was fear, it was excitement.
“Good Gods.” said Mr Attorcop. “What have I created?” Lilian laughed. She wasn’t being serious. Not really.
They finished their drinks and stood up to leave. They both had work to do the next day and the hour was late. Fritha stood up excitedly and they prepared themselves for the short journey home in the wind and rain. This strange older man and the red-haired young woman he was with were off, shutting the door behind them. They hadn’t really paid much attention to the other guests in the inn whilst they had been there. They had not, for example, seen the young couple flirting in the corner. They hadn’t realised that one of the men playing cards was cheating and they most certainly had not noticed the man in the purple jacket sitting one table behind them who had been listening to their every word. The man who had a sallow face, and was drinking a tall beer. The man who was sitting alone and pretending to read a book. The man who carried a cane with a Scorpion tale tip handle. The man who had a broach pinned to his shirt, in the shape of a silver hand.
Benlunar - Episode 28
Lilian is reunited with a friend that has been missing for a long time…
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasite
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
There was no time to celebrate, no time for sentimental reunions, there wasn’t even time to think. Lilian barely had a second to realise that she wasn’t still curled up and asleep in the bottom of the wardrobe. An explosion of some kind had just destroyed the attic door and a figure claiming to be Mr Attorcop was standing in the wake of dust and debris. The imposter whirled round at the sound and, seeing that he was under attack, leapt over to the desk nearby. Lilian stood up shakily and watched him as he reached for the top of one of the legs, gripped a wooden corner and pulled upwards, revealing a two foot long blade. It must have been cleverly concealed inside the desk and Lilian quickly wondered if the attic had any more hidden dangers. The imposter did not speak, instead he shouted loudly and angrily while running across the room towards Mr Attorcop. Lilian still could not believe that he was really here and her heart nearly stopped in fright, realising that she might lose him again the moment he had returned. But out of the black depths of his cloak Mr Attorcop met his attacker’s weapon with his own blade, a flash of shimmering silver against his night black clothes. The weapons collided, clanging and ringing with every swipe and parry. Lilian was still so stunned, she forgot herself and realised quickly that she needed to help Mr Attorcop. She looked around desperately for a weapon, but she couldn’t see anything that wasn’t soft or breakable. Mr Attorcop was slowly pushing the imposter back inside the attic. Another flash of lightning made them dark martial silhouettes against the large attic windows. Mr Attorcop’s face was stern but his attacker looked determined to defend his stolen property. Lilian couldn’t stand to be useless any longer so she grabbed a handful of dirty rags, and as the thunder rolled overhead, she began to throw them at the imposter’s face in an attempt to blind him. The first one missed but the imposter cursed loudly as he realised what she was doing. Mr Attorcop took advantage of his momentary distraction by feinting a chest high thrust, only to follow swiftly by a slashing back hand. At the same time, one of the rags smacked onto the imposter's eyes and he was briefly blinded, meaning that the slash cut a large tear in his shirt. Had he not stepped back the blade would have hit his chest. This put the imposter on the defensive and he took a few steps back towards the steps in the middle of the attic to reassess his situation.
“You two need to reconsider this. I have powerful friends you understand? As soon as they find out…” He was interrupted by Mr Attorcop.
“So run along and tell them. We’ll be here. And when they come we shall bring our boots down on them like the cockroaches they are.” Lilian heard a terrible anger in his voice, he was normally such a calm man. The imposter spat on the floor, turned on his heel and ran up the steps onto the attic’s upper level. Mr Attorcop still had his sword up and ready in a guarding stance. He never took his eyes off where the imposter had disappeared to, not even while speaking to Lilian.
“Who is he?” The urgency in his voice and in the situation in general made Lilian’s tired and hungry brain snap back to sharp attention.
“An imposter. He’s been saying he’s you and he’s making and selling a drug called Nightshade.”
“What does it do?”
“It gives you strength. Strength like I’ve never seen. It’s very dangerous, if he drinks some…”
“He won’t.” Lilian didn’t ask him how he knew this, but he seemed very sure.
“Lilian,” Mr Attorcop continued, Lilian permitted herself a smile, it was good to be talking to him again, “You’re going to do exactly what I say, as soon as I say it, do you understand?”
“I do.” she replied quickly.
“You need a weapon, take this.” Without looking at her, Mr Attorcop flipped his sword around and offered her the hilt. Lilian took it. The sword was lighter than she expected it to be. She tested it with a few practise swings before settling into her own guard stance. Right foot forward, left toes on the floor ready to spring the body forward or accept the weight back, both hands up ready to strike and parry. Lilian breathed out slowly and felt a familiar calm wash over her body. The fight was still in progress, but she was safer now. She could think clearly.
“When he comes back, we take both flanks, I’ll take the top, you aim for his legs.”
“Do I hit to kill?”
“No, disarm and subdue. Kill only if it means saving yourself. Ready yourself, he’s coming back.” Lilian started moving slowly towards the right while Mr Attorcop moved round to the left, pulling out a shining vial of essence and unstoppering as he did. Lilian kept her eyes on the stairs and seconds later the imposter reappeared. He had apparently gone to fetch more weapons as in his left hand he held a brown glass bottle which he was busy shaking vigorously. In his right hand he clutched a short, mean looking club. It looked like a short bat that Lilian had seen some children using to hit balls with in a park a few days ago, only this one had rusty nails poking out of it. The sword he had pulled out of the table was currently in his teeth. As he surveyed his attackers, Lilian noticed more of those little brown bottles strapped to his belt. This man looked as though he was ready to defend himself against an army. Thankfully his eyes, although filled with malice, didn’t have any traces of purple leaking out of them. Lilian braced herself. And the battle began.
The imposter hurled the brown bottle he was shaking directly at Mr Attorcop, he was ready for it though and deflected it off to his right. Out of the corner of her eye she saw it smash into the wardrobe behind him with a loud crack. It left a perfectly round hole in the wood large enough to fit a head through and Lilian breathed a small sigh of thanks that she was no longer hiding inside. Taking advantage of Mr Attorcop’s momentary distraction, the imposter flew down stairs and was upon Lilian. The sword fell from his teeth and he caught it with his left hand mid swing. Lilian met the blade with her own, producing a flash of sparks. She had no time to offer a counter attack however as the spiked club came hurtling in from the side. Lilian ducked in time to hear it whoosh over her head. She was low now, and remembered her role in the fight: she was to attack his legs and affect his balance. She stayed low then and kicked out hard. Mr Attorcop was on the scene just as Lilian’s foot connected with the imposter’s shin. He let out a pained groan, but the kick had not quite been hard enough to knock his foot away. Luckily Mr Attorcop was putting pressure on the man’s torso, punching high and fast. Lilian saw silver across his fingers and realised that he had fashioned the essence into spiked knuckle guards. Each one flashed back and forth in a flurry of blows, Lilian had forgotten just how fast he was, especially for a man of his advanced years. The imposter was doing well enough to dodge most hits, but a few still managed to break through his guard. Lilian swiped at the imposter's knees with her sword, knowing she could cut vital tendons with a well placed slash. The imposter, however, was turning out to be a competent fighter. He lacked finesse and technique but he made up for it with a massive supply of energy and determination. He managed to shove Mr Attorcop back a few steps and started hurling brown bottles at him, after placing the hilt of his sword back in his teeth.
Having seen the effects of just one of these bottles Mr Attorcop dashed backwards to give his reactions more time. He span left and right, avoiding or redirecting every bottle. More holes began popping into the floor and furniture. Lilian remembered the layers of explosives beneath them and thought the imposter insane to risk blowing up the entire building. Or perhaps these bottles didn’t react with those particular bombs. Whatever the reason, the imposter had no qualms about hurling more and more bottles at Mr Attorcop. Lilian felt she needed to step in so she ducked into the imposter's blind spot on his left side and quickly brought her sword up in a wide arc. She felt it connect with the imposter’s hand and he flinched back, spitting curses through his clenched teeth. Lilian caught a glimpse of scarlet on his palm and she knew that she had disabled his good hand. Unperturbed by the hit, the imposter reached round to the back of his belt and brought a bottle up to his lips. This one was flat, like a hip flask and green in colour. Lilian watched him take its contents into his mouth and keep it there before chucking the bottle at Lilian’s head. She managed to duck and heard it smash on the floor behind her. Before Lilian could plan her counter attack, the imposter was above her, he took a deep breath in through his nose and spat the liquid all over her in a burst of spray. It smelt of strong alcohol and stung her eyes. A panic swept through Lilian’s body, if a spark from her blade landed on her now she would be consumed by flames. The imposter knew this of course and came at her swinging and slashing. Lilian switched to a mindset of dodging rather than parrying and made sure to keep her silver sword well out of reach of his attacks. After a particularly heavy strike Lilian rolled backwards, this gave her a second to check on what Mr Attorcop was doing. He was not attacking, but instead, he had slipped one of his knuckle guards off and was putting it in his mouth. Lilian watched the metal soften into a chewy substance as soon as it connected with his teeth. This odd behaviour was drawing the attention of the imposter, who was standing between them confused. He did not wait to see what Mr Attorcop was planning and as quick as a flash he pulled a matchstick from his pocket and struck it against his belt. The match hissed into life and Lilian’s heart began pounding against her chest. One flick of his wrist and Lilian’s fight was over. She glanced at the splashes of liquid all over the floor and wondered if she would be able to escape the flames if they chased her.
“Put your weapons down, you hear me?” The imposter spoke between heavy breaths. “Nice and easy, and we can negotiate. You’ll find me to be quite reasonable when my life is not in immediate danger. Just put… your…” The imposter’s speech slowed to a stop. He didn’t even finish his thought. He was staring intensely at Mr Attorcop, his eyes slowly widening in disgust and disbelief. Lilian followed his gaze and found herself equally entranced by what was happening to Mr Attorcop. His mouth was open wide, wider than a normal human should be able to open their mouths. Lilian couldn’t see his tongue or teeth, instead she was just staring into an ink black abyss. Mr Attorcop was making no sound, save for a soft rasping breath. Lilian watched in horror and awe as the blackness began to slowly spill from his mouth and flow down his chin like dark vomit. The liquid darkness (for that is really all Lilian could think of it as) began to flow over his clothes, onto the wooden floor and into the cracks of the floor boards. Lilian thought she heard the imposter swear something under his breath before taking a few steps back in wide eyed fear. Lilian realised then that through all the training and all the encounters they’d had, Mr Attorcop had never really pushed himself to his full potential. Most likely, he had never needed to, but now, his anger was up and the darkness was enveloping him and everything around him.
The imposter, taking this for some cheap scare tactic, rallied himself and ran straight for Mr Attorcop and began slashing at him with his blade. He was running fast and had his full weight behind every swing, not wanting to take any chances. Lilian winced as Mr Attorcop failed to defend himself and ended up getting struck hard in the shoulder. But Mr Attorcop did not react. His shoulder began bleeding the same black substance that was still draining from his mouth. The imposter struck him again and again but Mr Attorcop showed no sign of feeling any pain at all. Instead the black liquid just flowed quicker and quicker, splashing all over the imposter’s blade and clothes. Red in the face with effort, the imposter tried to step backwards and rethink his strategy, but the liquid had become sticky and even though Lilian was sure that both men were standing on solid ground, they began to sink into the inky darkness. The imposter tried wrenching his feet upwards, he even managed to get one out slightly, but he could not step back far enough to avoid stepping back into the liquid. Lightning flashed again but the dark patches on the floor reflected no light. They weren’t so much black, thought Lilian, but rather an eerie absence of all light. Mr Attorcop had almost completely dissolved now and Lilian got to her feet, still ready to continue the fight if she was needed. The imposter was trying a new tactic, he was slashing at his feet, hoping to cut the sticky strands that tide him to the ichor. His eyes were filling with fear but he was gaining some success. His right foot managed to find the wooden floor behind him, but Lilian wasn’t going to let him escape. She maneuvered herself round so that she was directly behind him, he occasionally shot out a look, trying to keep track of her, but his trouble with the black liquid was proving to be too distracting. Lilian gritted her teeth and took a few steps back so as to have more of a run up. She began her sprint just as the imposter was pulling his left foot up and out of the floor, a second later and he would have been free, but Lilian was upon him. She jumped and propelled both feet into the imposter’s chest as he turned. The flying kick caught him off guard and he dropped his sword and club in surprise. He was also forced off balance and fell back and down into the swampy blackness. His arms flailed as he fell, desperately reaching for a hold or hand that was never there. His impact created little in the way of splash and his full immersion meant that escape was now impossible. Lilian got up and stood over him. She saw desperation fill his eyes and felt a small pang of pity as she watched him flail his arms.
“Please, little girl, I’m sorry I threatened you. You can have the attic, I’ll clear out my things, I’m sorry you understand?” Lilian said nothing. She knew that Mr Attorcop was trying to scare him and it was working, speaking now would undermine the effort. She merely watched as what looked like a black hand came out of the dark pool and clasped itself over his mouth, muffling his empty apologies. His nose remained uncovered so he could still breathe, but the stifling must have still been quite a shock.
Lilian wondered if Mr Attorcop was taking things a little too far, but then she recalled the man’s threats of bringing his friends back to exact revenge. If they were going to be truly rid of him, he would need to be made scared of ever coming back to bother them. The dark liquid then did something strange, it stopped behaving like a liquid at all and began solidifying. It dried quick and tough like wax. The imposter’s erratic movements began to slow as his arms and legs became stuck in place. The process took less than ten seconds and when it was over the imposter was left frozen, half sunken into the floor, surrounded by blackness with only his head, hands and left leg visible. Thunder rumbled overhead as Lilian listened to his rapid breathing. His eyes darted between Lilian and her blade, still shining brightly in her right hand. Lilian waited. She was hungry, and tired, but still happy to wait a little longer. Suddenly, she heard footsteps from behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Mr Attorcop, stepping out from a shadow to confront his impersonator.
The newly reunited duo stood over their prey. The imposter’s wild eyes darted between them. They waited until the fight fell out of him and he calmed down enough to speak. With a flick of his hand Mr Attorcop dispelled the dark limb that silenced the imposter. It slithered back into the darkness with a wet slop. The imposter did not shout or call for help. He merely looked up at his captors, knowing he had lost.
“You’ve been very busy while I’ve been away.” Mr Attorcop let the comment hang in the air before following it up with his first question. “What is your name?” The imposter tried to move his head so as to get some strands of hair out of his eye, but his movement was so limited that even this simple act was rendered impossible. And so he blinked incessantly while speaking.
“My name… I… my name is Simos Helmont.” Lilian looked up in time to see Mr Attorcop narrowing his eyes in reaction to the name.
“Helmont. We’ve met before I believe.”
“We have. Years ago now.”
“Hmm. And what made you think you could move in here and set up shop in my attic?”
“Word was that you were dead. Assassinated. I had just started working when I heard and thought that your name would be a good cover in case things went sour. I knew the attic would be empty so I paid off a locksmith, made new keys and moved in.” Mr Attorcop waited, considering the answer. Finding it to his satisfaction, he moved on with his line of questioning.
“Tell me about Nightshade.” The man, apparently called Helmont, closed his eyes as if he’d just been delivered some terrible news.
“I didn’t invent it, I don’t know who did. But I make it and I sell it. I don’t have any here though I swear…”
“He's lying.” It was Lilian’s turn to speak. Both men looked at her and waited for evidence of her claim. Lilian turned around and walked back across the room, round the desk and stood next to the wooden panel she had previously tried to pry open. She had known then that there was something hidden there but she had had to be quiet. Now she just turned around and kicked out like a donkey. The thin wood splintered easily and Lilian chucked the broken panel aside before reaching in and pulling out two bottles filled with dark purple liquid. She walked back over and handed one to Mr Attorcop. He studied it slowly, turning it in his hand and holding it up to the light of the window. He then handed it back to Lilian and knelt down close to Helmont. Unblinking he spoke in a low tone.
“Let me give you some advice. Considering that the world thinks you’re me and I’m clearly here in front of you, it would stand to reason then, that if you disappeared no one would look for you. I could have this hole swallow you up and anyone who ever spoke the name Simos Helmont again would be doing so only in reference to a fading memory. With that in mind my advice is: Do. Not. Lie. To me. Again.” Helmont stared at him despite the hair bothering his eyes, he gave as much of a nod as he could manage and Mr Attorcop stood up to resume his questioning.
“Who taught you how to make it?” Helmont was quick to respond now.
“No one, I just got a set of instructions. They’re up there.” His eyes pointed to the upper part of the attic, “not easy to follow and you’d need a fair amount of chemical manufacturing experience to follow them so it can’t be made by any old fool. I used to work for a dye and tanning factory so I know my measurements.”
“Who gives you the instructions and ingredients?” Mr Attorcop’s questions were quick and impatient. The quick tone elicited quick responses, except for this one. Helmont paused, nervous about his answer.
“Tell me. Now.” Helmont resigned himself, it was clear that answers were the only thing that would release him from Mr Attorcop’s dark grip.
“The Weardian.” Mr Attorcop looked confused, he shot Lilian a look and she nodded, confirming the answer. Mr Attorcop looked back at Helmont and spoke a single word.
“Why?”
“I was only doing it for the money. Good money too. They never told me why but I have my theories. You’re a smart man Cromwell. Think about it, why would the powers that be want illegal chemicals flooding their own streets?” Mr Attorcop gave it a moment's thought before realising the answer.
“The chemical gives you strength. Who should need it most then, than the weak? Sell them their own power and then arrest them for daring to claim it.” Lilian followed the logic.
“They’re using it to find dissenters. People who are desperate or want to cause trouble. They’re taking advantage of their hopelessness by selling them a solution and then imprisoning them once they use it… that’s…”
“Genius.” said Helmont.
“Evil.” said Lilian. There was a pause. Mr Attorcop paced around the room. The lightning and thunder had long rolled over the city and the only sound left was the heavy clunk of Mr Attorcop’s boots on what remained of the floorboards. After a few lengths back and forth Mr Attorcop stopped and turned to Helmont.
“I’m going to let you go now.” Lilian almost spoke up in protest, but realised quickly that they had little more to gain from keeping him here. “You’re to start using your old name again and you’re to stay in the city for at least a month. You’re to check in at The Dim Candle every three days to see if I’ve left you a message. If I have then you do exactly as it says, do you understand?” Helmont nodded emphatically.
“Yes, yes of course.”
“Good.” And with that, Mr Attorcop reached down and clasped Helmont’s hand. As soon as he did so the dark substance began to crumble and flake away. In no time at all it was just a pile of black powder on the floor and Simos Helmont was patting himself down, wiping the excess dust away. The floorboards were back to normal, with no sign of break or dent, Lilian even surreptitiously put a little pressure on the spot where Helmont had been trapped, just to see if it gave way or revealed a trap door. It did not. Mr Attorcop took back his blade and melted it back into a vial of essence, all while keeping a close eye on Helmont as he collected a few vital things. When they finally shut the door behind him, Lilian let out a large and long sigh of relief. She turned to look at Mr Attorcop and rubbed her eyes. Half in an attempt to wake herself up, half as a measure to double check that he really was there in front of her. She opened her eyes and he was still there, standing just as she remembered him. His beard was messier than she remembered, his cloak a little dustier, but it was Mr Attorcop all the same. He was about to speak but Lilian already had her arms around him.
They spoke for a while but Lilian was conscious of Fritha needing food, water and a walk. She also needed to explain her absence to Mr Twitchett, so with a quick promise to return as soon as she could, she left the attic residence and stepped thankfully into the fresh afternoon air. One thing they did address before Lilian left was how Mr Attorcop knew that Helmont wouldn’t drink any Nightshade. As he put it,
“If he was going to drink it he would have done so the moment I stepped through the door. Substances as powerful as Nightshade do not sit idle without reason. I suspect our Mr Helmont was very aware of the dangers his concoction presents. He, after all, knows exactly what’s in it.”
Fritha had never been so delighted to see Lilian walk through the door. She practically knocked her over in an effort to lick her face and after a quick meal of raw chicken Lilian had picked up on the way home, the two of them dropped in on Mr Twitchett. Far from being angry with her, Mr Twitchett was just as relieved as Fritha was to see that she was safe. Lilian explained what had happened, leaving out any bits about gloaming or lunar essence. When she had finished telling her story Mr Twitchett asked if she could deliver a finished piece to a client, it was a beautiful and colourful parrot that had apparently been a cherished family pet for many years. Lilian handled it with utmost care and Mr Twitchett said that after the delivery was completed she would not be needed for the rest of the day. Lilian thanked him and carefully transported the animal up the hill to the correct address. She was thankful that her job allowed her to travel around the city in this way, without it it would have taken a lot longer to get to know the many streets and districts of the vast metropolis. She still got lost occasionally, but she quickly learned which kinds of people she could trust to ask for directions. Fritha trotted along happily beside her, sporting her shaggy dog look and snapping and any pigeons that came too close. Once the delivery was completed (the client was extremely happy with the result) Lilian began making her way back down the hill to go and see Mr Attorcop again.
It so happened then that she bumped into Katherine as she walked and she was able to fill her in very briefly on the developments. The two agreed to meet again within the week and Lilian set off with a wide smile on her face. The city Summer sun was shining, street vendors chorused their wares and everything was well in the world.
Lilian got back to Mr Attorcop’s attic by late afternoon. The air was cooling as evening set in, but the height of the attic meant that it was still very hot inside. Lilian wiped her forehead as she climbed the last of the stairs and stepped through the broken door, tiptoeing round broken shards of wood as she. Fritha sniffed the floor and air, wagging her tail furiously as the scent of someone familiar filled her sensitive snout. Lilian heard a rustling and crashing coming from the back of the attic and climbed the few steps to go and find Mr Attorcop. She saw him crouched beside a large basket, he was sorting through bits and pieces left behind by Helmont occasionally chucking things into the basket to be taken to the city dump later. Lilian greeted him and he smiled when he saw her. Lilian hoped that his new habit of smiling would stick as happiness suited him. Fritha ran ahead, her lead breaking free from Lilian’s grip. Her tail wagged so much that she nearly knocked a glass beaker off a table. Mr Attorcop laughed and stroked her ears.
“Yes yes I’ve missed you too you great big oaf. Settle down now settle down.” But Fritha continued to bark her bell like sounds, licking his hands and leaning her full weight on him.
“We’ve both missed you.” said Lilian. Mr Attorcop looked up at her with a solemn expression.
“I know. I’ve missed you too. I’m so sorry Lilian, I tried everything in my power to get here sooner but I was…” He paused, searching for the appropriate term, “Waylaid.” Lilian heard sadness in his voice.
“Well, you’re here now, that’s what matters.” He smiled.
“Yes. I’m here. I’m back in this silly city and I am eager to get back to work.”
“I’ve actually just come from work. I didn’t know what to do in your absence so I got a job at a taxidermist’s.” Mr Attorcop raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“That’s good Lilian. You should keep it, we will be able to resume training in the evenings and when you have days off, my work in the meantime will mainly consist of getting this place back in order.” He looked around at the mammoth task ahead of him. Fritha was busy pushing a cork bowl around and chasing after it.
This part of the attic was a little darker than the entrance, with only two small windows in the back wall for natural light. There were tables and desks shoved carelessly against the walls and littered with a hundred different beakers, mixing bowls and chemical apparatus. There was a drab looking bed in one corner with a small nightstand beside it. The entire space looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months and Lilian reminded herself that it probably hadn’t. Lilian began picking up anything that was broken or useless and placing it inside the basket. She had many questions burning away inside of her, but for now was content with just having Mr Attorcop back.
“So what do you make of Freedos?” Lilian considered the question, turning over a broken set of scales as she did.
“It’s nice…” Mr Attorcop saw straight through her.
“But…”
“But it has a lot of problems.” Mr Attorcop snorted derisively as if that was the understatement of the century.
“It only has one problem. Poverty.” Lilian didn’t quite agree with this.
“I don’t know,” she said, “Benlunar is not a rich town but we don’t have the same problems. People here are desperate, you know? And judging by what we learned today the people in charge don’t seem to be making life any easier.” Mr Attorcop nodded. “Has it always been like this?”
“More or less.” he replied, setting aside a large abacus to keep. “Although it has gotten steadily worse in the last few years. Since the Emperor died.” Lilian had heard about that when it had happened, Benlunar was far away but not completely cut off from the world.
“If you could,” proffered Lilian, “what would you do to help the people of Freedos?” This question made Mr Attorcop pause. He shrugged nonchalantly before going back to work and replied,
“Oh I don’t know. I suppose we could kill the Empress.”
Benlunar - Episode 27
Lilian finds herself trapped in the attic residence.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
Power never comes without a price. Mr Attorcop’s words flashed into Lilian’s mind. She could see his bearded face and black cloaked body framed against the Benlunar street where she first heard those words. She had trusted them then and she trusted them now more than ever. The hours of practise, the aches and pains of training, the miles of walking had all taught her this lesson a hundred times over. It was only recently that Lilian was able to even get a small sense of the power she was paying for. She thanked Mr Attorcop for that lesson, for insisting that she practise every day and for trusting her enough to be given power in the first place. Currently, that power was saving her life. She was standing, stock still in Mr Attorcop’s city lodgings, a large attic space in the Freedos quarter known as Ziedmont. Mr Attorcop was unfortunately not there right now, in his stead, a charlatan claiming to be him was using the attic as a base of operations from which to sell a dirty and dangerous potion known as Nightshade. Seconds ago he had re-entered the attic, closed the window and walked up to the back of the space, presumably to go back to sleep. Lilian had seen all of this, and yet the imposter had not seen her. She was staring in amazement at her own hands and how they seemed to shift and change in colour and texture as she moved them around. The closer she moved them towards the floorboards, the more grainy and wood-like they appeared. And if she touched the pile of discarded rags in front of her, her hands and arms would change until they practically disappeared into the material. Lilian didn’t seem to have control over the shift and she could only assume that the rest of her body was behaving in the same way, this included her clothes but she suspected that had she been wearing anything other than simple cotton the effect would have been less convincing. She grabbed a few strands of hair and pulled them in front of her eyes. All her life she had seen strands of bright red whenever she did this, but now Lilian was looking at a glassy, translucent material. It was an eerie feeling to have something so familiar suddenly be different. With the immediate danger of the imposter gone, Lilian watched her hair change back to its familiar dark red and her hands warped back to their original fleshy colour, albeit with some added grime from scaling the dirty wall and hiding on dusty rooftops. She snapped out of her fascination and could only hope that the power would return if she needed it. This hope was fading however, as with each minute that past she felt her senses dulling as they returned to normal. She had to assume that this strange ability, undoubtedly gained from absorbing light from Fritha’s hair would disappear with the rest of the effects of gloaming.
Power never comes without a price. The words echoed again. Lilian took stock of her situation and realised that she might have to pay a heavy price indeed if she did not accept the little victory her power had granted her. Time was running out. Lilian looked out of the window and saw that the stars were fading into the imminent sunrise. She took a step towards the window and noticed how heavy her legs were becoming. Would she be able to scale the building in this state? She became worried. Lilian turned to look at the back of the attic, her view was obstructed by a desk and the fact that this section was slightly raised, she saw no signs of movement and presumed that the imposter must be asleep. Lilian turned back and began making her way slowly towards the door. She tiptoed as quietly as she could but her slightly heightened hearing meant that each step tapped the wooden floor with loud thuds. A few seconds later and Lilian had her hand on the round and rusted handle. She was a twist and pull away from freedom but a thought was holding her back.
She was in. She was undetected. She had a chance to expose this pretender, or at least hurt him or his business in some way. Would she find herself sitting in her lonely room later wishing she had done something? Her heart was beating hard and fast in her chest. Slowly, she turned her head to look back across the room. She had not had the chance to examine it properly, what with the panic of being caught and the tunnel-visioned goal of getting access to the fake wall. She briefly considered going back and trying again but knew that it might take hours to break into it silently. She cast her eyes over the rest of the room. She saw the pile of discarded rags, their chemical smell still wafting off them. She looked at the desk she had snagged her shirt on and saw that it was littered with papers. Perhaps they were important? She could easily grab a handful before heading out. To the left of the desk were the six or seven steps to the rest of the attic. Going up was too much of a risk, she decided. If she was going to do something, it would have to be in this lower part. To her left she saw a tall wardrobe and next to that a chest of draws. They were both painted blue but the paint was faded and cracked. Lilian could see faint yellow flowers detailing the edges. The rest of the attic was in a similar state. Lilian had always assumed Mr Attorcop to be a man of meticulous care but she reminded herself that she had only ever known him to live in a large and well furnished house, filled with expertly crafted furniture. This place began to feel like it matched Mr Attorcop’s character a lot more. He was a man of study and science and it was clear that he spent a lot more time researching than looking after fading furniture. Lilian had to make a decision quickly or else let inaction decide for her. She quietly opened the wardrobe but found it to be mostly empty save a few hanging coats and cloaks, all of them dark. She clicked the doors shut and turned back to the entrance to the attic. What was she doing? She thought to herself, feeling slightly ashamed. She had been consumed with exhilaration but in truth she was still as powerless as she had been when she was staying away from this place. The sun was rising and the imposter could be awake at any moment. The memory of the explosives beneath her feet shocked her into realising that not only was she powerless but she was in danger just by being here. She took in a quiet breath through her nose and could smell the manure beneath the floorboards, although with each passing minute her sense of smell was getting back to normal and an overwhelming tiredness was consuming her muscles and mind. She turned back to the door and dejectedly put her hand on the handle. She’d have nothing to show for her dangerous escapade and she had put herself at risk for nothing more than a thrill. She could hear her Mother’s voice, she could see Katherine’s disappointed look and Mr Attorcop’s condescending manner. But at least she was unharmed and she had learned one valuable thing, do not trust Alexi Genaro.
Lilian twisted the handle slowly and quietly and stepped through it to the staircase. She was still thinking about what Mr Attorcop would have said when she took her first step down. Her plan had been to turn around on the staircase and shut the door carefully behind her, leaving no trace of her intrusion. But as soon as her foot pressed down on the top step she heard a strange whizzing, whirring sound. She had felt the step give a little and distinctly click. She had assumed it to be just the sound of old wood but now the whirring was getting louder and somehow travelling up the wall beside her. Lilian began to feel nervous and considered rushing down the staircase when the sound of a loud metallic bell rang out through the building.
It came from somewhere in the attic but would have surely woken everyone on the street. Lilian brought her hands quickly up to her ears, cursing her enhanced hearing. The sound of the bell stopped but Lilian could still hear a high pitched ringing in both ears. It disorientated and distracted her, so much so that it took her a few seconds longer than it should have to realise that she had just set off an alarm and that the imposter would be out of bed and looking for her right this instant. She had to think quickly, she could either run downstairs risking capture and injury, or head back through the door and into the wardrobe, leaving the door open for Attorcop’s imposter to believe someone had tried to sneak in but had been put off by the alarm and run back downstairs. Considering the steepness and length of the staircase Lilian chose the latter option and ducked back into the apartment. She quickly checked for signs of the imposter and seeing none, opened the wardrobe and climbed in before shutting its door quickly and quietly behind her. All sound was suddenly close and muffled. The wardrobe smelt of dust and old wood. Lilian had to push several cloaks aside but found enough space to comfortably hide. She had considered trying to replicate her little invisibility trick from earlier, but remembering how little control she’d have over it, decided it was best not to trust that particular part of gloaming right now. Besides, her senses were almost back to normal and Lilian guessed that shifting shape and colour had burned a large reserve of energy.
Lilian held her breath and listened. She could make out the sound of movement from the back of the attic, a shuffling of feet and a succession of hurried bangs and slamming sounds. After the imposter had taken care to hide whatever it was he was hiding from the supposed intruder (or in this case, actual intruder) Lilian heard his footsteps coming down the small set of steps that separated the two parts of the large attic. The sound echoed off the tall ceiling and made its way into her wardrobe. The steps were quiet and slow, not rushed and panicked as the previous sounds had been. Lilian held her breath and tried to think of what she would do if he opened the wardrobe doors and found her sitting there. Her thoughts of kicks and screams were interrupted by a low and menacing voice.
“I know you’re there…” Lilian thought her heart had stopped. How could he know? She had hidden long before he had even got out of bed. She took a slow, deep breath and thought through the situation, just like Mr Attorcop had taught her to. As the footsteps edged ever closer to the thin wooden doors separating them, she realised that he simply did not have enough information for that statement to be true. Therefore he must be lying. But why lie? Lilian realised how tense her hands were, her grubby nails were digging into her palms. She was scared. And that’s why he’d lied. To induce fear. Nothing forces mistakes like fear and panic. This realisation relaxed her enough to think more clearly and prepare her body for any violence that might suddenly spring through the wardrobe doors. Her hunch was quickly confirmed when she heard the footsteps walk slowly past her doors and towards the attic entrance. There was a silence. Lilian considered peeking through the thin line of light where the doors met, but didn’t want to risk her hair or eyes catching in the dawn sun. There were footsteps on the staircase. He must be checking to see if whoever had triggered the alarm was lurking in the stairwell, she thought. Moments later he was back and shutting the attic door behind him. Lilian could hear him moving around but couldn’t discern exactly what he was doing. She considered closing her eyes and going into her state of focus, but she knew that if she closed her eyes now she would risk falling asleep. Her legs and arms were getting heavier by the minute, as not only had she ran across half the city’s rooftops, she had done so while skipping a night’s rest and in a state that burned energy faster than twigs in a bonfire.
The imposter seemed to be searching for something and Lilian’s heart sank when she heard the unmistakable jangle of keys followed shortly by the terrible thunk of a turning lock. She was now locked inside the attic apartment. Lilian held her breath again as she heard the man walk back past the wardrobe. For once she was grateful for her small size, a grown man would have found it impossible to conceal himself inside this small wardrobe. It was a tight squeeze even for her. The fake Attorcop must have assumed the intruder to be such a man as he failed to even bother checking inside the wardrobe. Lilian thanked several Gods that most criminals and thieves were taller and older than she. Lilian was safe for now, but the fact remained that she was trapped inside the attic apartment with little hope of freedom in the near future. Feeling helpless, Lilian decided to quietly sit down inside the wardrobe. It took some time but she had little else to do and standing crouched against the wooden top would have quickly become unbearable. Her knees came up to her chest when she was fully seated and Lilian found she could rest her head against one of the softer, winter cloaks. In this semi-comfortable position sleep became impossible to fight. At first she tried to remind herself that she would be vulnerable if asleep, but for every argument her brain could conjure, her body would counter it with a simple fact: sleep was inevitable. And so Lilian resigned herself and fell into a dream.
She awoke with a start to the sound of loud knocking a while later, uncertain at how much time had passed. The wardrobe was distinctly warmer than when she’d first entered it, a likely combination of the morning sun and her own body heat. Lilian felt large patches of sweat under her arms and down the back of her neck. Another knock echoed throughout the building and Lilian regained her sense enough to remember just how dangerous her situation was. She heard the hurried steps of the imposter coming down the stairs and crossing over to the attic door. A jangle of keys, the slide of a lock and Lilian realised that she might have an opportunity to escape. Her senses were back to normal but she could still hear the sound of each foot landing step by step as the imposter descended the stairwell to check who was at the door. Lilian gently pushed the wardrobe open and shielded her eyes from the glaring sun streaming through the large, street-facing window. If she did not escape soon, she thought, she would be late for work. It was a small worry considering her current situation, but it was there nonetheless.
She knew that she could not go straight downstairs, there was only one stairwell and she hadn’t seen any signs of entrances to other apartments so there would be nowhere to hide. If she managed to reach the bottom of the stairs without being caught she would have to push past the imposter and whoever was at the door and risk being grabbed. Her only hope was the window and so Lilian walked straight over to it and began working the latch. It swung open easily and Lilian gripped the edges, ready to hoist herself into the sunlight. But she paused. Without the added strength from gloaming, the window seemed a lot higher up than it had last night. The cobbled street loomed and twisted beneath her causing her empty stomach to turn. Lilian felt her balance falter. She took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and readied herself for the climb.
It was then that she noticed the man on the street who had knocked at the door. He had long wavy hair and a dirty white shirt. It was Genaro, Lilian was sure of it, he was back and he was talking with the imposter. Lilian narrowed her eyes and reminded herself to give Genaro a proper telling off next time she saw him. Suddenly, a cold fear crept over her as she watched the imposter reenter the stairwell whilst gesturing for Genaro to follow him. Had this been Genaro’s plan all along? To infiltrate the beast’s lair rather than just attack him in the street? Lilian briefly thought that she might owe Genaro an apology. If that was indeed the case, Lilian wanted to be there in case Genaro needed help. One last look at the rickety window ledge and the cobbles below convinced her that she would stay and help him. At least with Genaro present she would have an ally in the room and with two against one, the odds of victory were vastly improved. And so Lilian closed the window and tiptoed back to the wardrobe and shut the door just in time to hear the sounds of feet and voices climbing the stairs. She’d had a little time before sleep and upon waking to give proper thought to her plan. She knew that this imposter posing as her friend had to be brought to some kind of justice, but she was not exactly sure what that would look like. A dark part of her wanted to inflict some sort of pain or suffering, but Lilian didn’t think she was quite ready to dish out that particular brand of justice. She also knew that the authorities would be no use as they were already complicit. Lilian resolved to take some kind of proof, probably a few bottles of Nightshade, to whoever led the Sons of Taymar and see what kind of justice they could provide her.
“Just wait here, and don’t touch anything.” The imposter’s voice drifted into the wardrobe like an unpleasant smell. She heard him disappear into the back of the attic and she decided to risk looking through the crack in the doors. The worst that would happen would be that Genaro would spot her, this might even give him some comfort, she thought. Bringing her eye close to the sliver of light, Lilian could just make out the form of Alexi Genaro, framed against the light of the window. He was fiddling with his shirt and occasionally brushing his long hair out of his face. Was he nervous? Thought Lilian. Possibly. She recalled her own nerves upon entering this place, they had subsided somewhat since then, but she couldn’t blame Genaro for feeling nervous when he was in the beast’s lair. Lilian couldn’t see a knife or any kind of weapon and wondered if he had one concealed somewhere. She began to feel excited to witness what was about to happen. She had visions of jumping out of her hiding place after Genaro delivered the knockout blow and shouting ‘Ha!’ at the imposter. Genaro would claim a victory and Lilian could start clearing Mr Attorcop’s good name. She heard the sounds of footsteps and readied herself for action.
“I’m afraid the price has gone up.” said the imposter.
“Since last month?” replied Genaro, his voice filled with anger and surprise.
“Since today. If what you say is true then this is one of the last spots you can buy. I don’t want the extra heat without the extra warmth.” There was a pause, Lilian couldn’t see enough to read the mood effectively. After a few seconds, the imposter spoke again.
“You tried some didn’t you?” Another pause. “Impressive isn’t it?” Again, Genaro chose not to reply. This made the imposter laugh, “Fine fine, you don’t have to tell me. I’ve never tried it myself but I’ve seen its effects. It’s no wonder they keep coming back for more.”
“It’s vile slop. No one should have that much strength.”
“And yet here we are.” There was the sound of glass clinking and four taps of weighty objects on a wooden surface.
“How many was it? Two bottles? Three?” This was it, thought Lilian, this was the moment Genaro would strike.
“Three.”
“Three bottles. Very well. That will be six crowns.”
“Six!? That’s extortion. How can anyone… What’s stopping me from beating you to a pulp right now and taking them for myself? Hm?” Lilian readied her fists for action.
“Oh nothing… Nothing at all. Save for when these are all drunk and I’m not here to make more. Then you’ll be ready to pay double. I can lower the price if you like, in return for a favour of course.” Genaro spat.
“I can barely stand being in your presence, I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in your pocket.” The imposter laughed a sickly, rasping cackle.
“Hahaha… A poet! I admire that. Very well, have it your way.” Lilian saw a grubby hand stretch out into her thin field of vision, palm open expectantly. Genaro pulled a small purse out from his belt and opened it.
“I’ll take two bottles for four.” He said and placed a small pile of coins on the palm. Lilian saw them briefly reflect the light of the sun before the imposter’s thin fingers curled around them and whipped them out of her sight. She was confused. Had that not been the perfect time to strike?
Genaro suddenly disappeared from view and Lilian was forced to listen intently to the few sounds that gave away what was happening. She heard glass bottles clink together, footsteps and the occasional sigh or breath. Finally Genaro passed back across Lilian’s view and seemed to walk towards the door. Was he leaving? Lilian started to worry.
“Remember to drink the whole bottle, or it won’t work. Until next time.” She heard the imposter say. Genaro gave no reply and simply opened the door and clicked it shut behind him. Lilian’s heart fell deeper with every fading step she could hear. She was alone, betrayed and abandoned. Genaro had not wanted the information for some righteous cause, he’d wanted it so that he could buy more Nightshade. Lilian felt used and angry. A tear was forming in her right eye. She suddenly missed Fritha terribly. She would be worried about Lilian being gone for so long. She wished she was hiding there with her, she missed Mr Attorcop too. He wouldn’t have stood for any of this nonsense. Lilian briefly entertained the idea of bursting forth from the wardrobe and attacking the imposter. The element of surprise would surely give her the upper hand? She could get in a few good hits before running down the stairs after Genaro. No. That would be foolish. Lilian felt like bashing her fist against the wall. How could she have been so stupid? Time after time she’d had the chance to turn back, or even to escape. But she failed to listen to her own reason, called back again and again by greed. Now she was trapped and she had no one to blame but herself. She felt her cheeks redden in shame.
Suddenly, Lilian could sense movement nearby. She pushed her thoughts of embarrassment and failure to one side. Had the imposter not gone back up the stairs? She had been so distracted by Genaro’s betrayal that she had failed to keep track of exactly what he was doing. But she could hear him now. He was… stepping closer. He was so close Lilian could hear him breathing. What was he doing? She wondered. He clearly wasn’t walking anywhere with any particular purpose, his steps were too slow and soft for that. Hang on. Was he…? Lilian cursed her luck and life as she realised, he was creeping towards the wardrobe. What could she do? She looked about trying and failing to find some sort of weapon, a disguise, an excuse, anything! But she found none. There was a silence… Then the wardrobe doors flew open.
The bright light shocked her at first and Lilian had to squint to avoid hurting her eyes. She instinctively raised her hands to her face, but the imposter had the element of surprise as well as the light behind him. Lilian felt a tight grip on her wrist, she screamed in high pitched panic, as she felt her body being forcefully yanked out of the wardrobe. There was a sharp pain in her right knee as she collided with the wooden floorboards. The throw had been so strong that Lilian skidded a short distance after hitting the floor.
“Just as I thought. A little sneak thief, cowering in a cupboard.” Lilian could see the imposter clearly now, he wore an old stained shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbow. Around his waist was an apron with two large pockets sewn into it. Lilian couldn’t get a proper look at the tools sticking out of the pockets, but they seemed heavy and possibly sharp. Lilian knew from her training that she should stand up as quickly as possible. She got a good look at the imposter’s face as she did. His eyes had hard dark rings under them, and she could see when he spoke that his teeth were stained brown. He was not much taller than her, but judging by the throw and the lingering pain on her wrist, he was stronger than he looked. Lilian glanced at the door.
“Ah ah, not so fast.” he said, putting himself between her and the attic’s only entrance. Lilian then looked at the window, the sky seemed to be filling with dark menacing clouds. A storm was on its way. Knowing the window to be a far too dangerous and slow means of escape, Lilian resigned herself to facing the imposter. She tested her weight on her bruised knee and found that she could still stand quite comfortably. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart and head.
“Who are you? Hm? And who sent you? Hang on…” He took a couple of steps closer, Lilian curled her hands into tight fists.
“You’re a child... What in the fiery depths are you doing here?? Well? Speak up. You’re here to steal from me aren’t you?”
“No.” Lilian replied through gritted teeth.
“So you can talk. You must be a real fool to think I wouldn’t see you moving about in there.” He gestured behind him to the wardrobe and for the first time Lilian saw how old and unstable it was. One of the legs even appeared to be a little shorter than the rest.
“Now listen closely. You’re going to tell me why you’re here young lady, you can either do this of your own volition, or I shall persuade you.” It’s true that Lilian was young, but she wasn’t so naive to think that he wanted to ply her with tea and cakes until she spilled the latest gossip. She had to keep him occupied, perhaps distract him enough to get him away from the door. Lilian began to wish she’d brought Kissandra’s snake blade along with her.
“Now, let’s start again shall we? I assure you I am a reasonable man. You give me the answers I want and I shall let you walk out of here in one piece. Deal?” And there it was. Something about his phrasing gave Lilian a way to distract him. All she had to do was give him the answers he wanted, this didn’t mean they had to be truthful. She nodded, ready to begin.
“Good. Now. Who sent you?” Lilian said the first name that came into her head. A name she knew he would know.
“Bried.” Lilian watched his face fall.
Outside, it had started to rain. Large droplets of water began hitting the window and sliding down the glass panes like little beads of nervous sweat. Lilian looked at them quickly, leaving via the window was now definitely out of the question. The sill and roof would be far too slippery. The man seemed taken aback by her answer.
“Bried?? Why? What does she want?” Lilian thought she could detect a hint of panic in his voice.
“She wanted to know how much you’re selling the Nightshade for, and how many customers you’re getting every day.” Lilian was particularly proud of the angle she had chosen. The imposter dropped all pretence of wanting to hurt her and instead cursed and turned to look out of the window. Lilian saw the door reveal itself as he moved.
“I pay my share on time every week and still she sends her spies.” He turned back to look at Lilian. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
“Aren’t you a little young to be working for Bried?” Lilian had to think fast.
“I’m no younger than she was when she started.” This seemed to satisfy his suspicion. Lilian thought it stood to reason that a criminal would have no qualms in hiring someone as young as she was to do their dirty work. Besides, she’d seen children younger than her in the Freedos markets picking the pockets of rich looking nobles.
The rain was falling fast and hard by now. A flash quickly illuminated the imposter's grim features and seconds later a rumble of thunder rolled over the attic. He was more relaxed now. He even walked past her towards the desk.
“You tell Bried the rate is still the same and that business is fine. Understand?” Lilian nodded. Her path to the door was clear now, but she seemed to be getting away with the lie. The man was writing something down and so had his back to her. Still, she took a couple of cautious steps towards the door.
“Here. You show her this and tell her you stole it, understand? Come back later when it's done and I’ll give you a silver bit.” He turned and held up a sheet of parchment that seemed to be covered in dates and numbers, Lilian couldn’t make out the details from this distance.
“Four silver bits.” Lilian played up to her role of a penny pinching street urchin.
“Two. And you don’t get a slap from the back of my hand.” The imposter’s eyes were lit by another flash of lightning. They were angry and tired. Lilian nodded and held her hand out to accept the sheet. He walked over and placed one end in her hand. Lilian pulled on the paper but he did not let go. The thunder cracked over head, the silence between the flash and sound was shorter than before. The two stood still, staring at each other as the echo rumbled across the city.
“I know you…” said the imposter. As much to himself as to Lilian. Lilian feigned ignorance, curling her eyebrows and cocking her head in mock confusion. “Yes. You were here the other day. You were looking for Mr Attorcop but you ran away when you saw me.” Lilian felt anger bubble up inside her again. She knew she had been found out, and so she did the only thing her brain could think of. Curling her free hand into a tight ball, she put all her weight behind it and rammed it into the imposter's stomach.
She had aimed for the solar plexus and was happy to hear a loud, guttural grunt when her knuckles connected with his body. Taking advantage of the brief moment of weakness Lilian turned and ran for the door. Her hand felt the cold metal of the handle and she was even turning it when she felt two heavy arms wrap themselves around her waist. Her whole body was lifted off the ground and unceremoniously thrown back towards the desk. It felt similar to being hoisted out of the wardrobe, only now her time in the air was longer and she felt the impact of the landing through her whole body, not just her knee. She felt it most in her right shoulder and temporarily lost all feeling in her right arm. She regained her composure just in time to see the imposter bearing down on her. Lilian scrambled backwards, jolts of pain shooting up and down her arms and back.
“Who are you? Why were you asking for me that day?” Lilian could no longer contain her wrath.
“I wasn’t asking for you! I was asking for Cromwell Attorcop.” The penny seemed to drop behind the imposter’s eyes.
“How do you know that I’m not Cromwell Attorcop?” A flash of lightning exploded from across the street and the entire attic was bathed in white light for less than a second. In that time the loudest bang Lilian had ever heard erupted nearby. Lilian briefly thought that the lightning had struck the inside of the attic, because at the same time the door shattered and splintered into a thousand pieces. Lilian saw a dark figure step across the threshold and in the fading echo of the explosion she heard it speak.
“Because I’m Cromwell Attorcop.”
Benlunar Legends - Amala Checkad
Delve into the past in this special bonus episode of Benlunar.
A deed is a story waiting to be told
A story becomes legend when it grows to be old
A legend retold might become a myth
Though details will blur as if obscured by a mist
Alicium has legends and heroes as well
Each with a life and a story to tell
Their feats and good deeds make their stories last
So listen as we delve, into the fog of the past
Ever since Amala was a little girl she was able to talk to crows. Perhaps it started back in that tiny two room place on Geriser Street where she was born and thus spent years learning to speak. A family of crows had made a nest outside her bedroom window and so their cackles and calls permeated her walls and entered her mind at the same time the foundation blocks of all language were set in place there. Her parents were immigrants from Yanor, a small town near the desert city of Zandt. They’d left their drought plagued home to find a better life for themselves in Freedos, the famed volcano city to the west. They missed the food and songs of their people but were glad to see their daughter playing with the city birds, seeing as their gods and legends were all but one winged and feathered.
Amala quickly learned that crows were creatures of few words, saying only one or two where a person might say nine or ten. ‘Food?’ the female would bark as her mate flew up to meet her. ‘None’ the man would reply. And that would be that. There were no arguments or accusations. Not like when her father returned home from a day of looking for work only to tell her mother he had once again come home unlucky. The crows trusted that their partner was doing their best and so only facts were necessary. This was not always the case with people. Amala learned that she would have to pepper her facts with apologies, lest she be seen as arrogant. Excuse her reasons with deference or be accused of disrespect. She learned that this lack of trust made human conversation a labyrinth of social cues and potential pitfalls.
And so more and more Amala spoke with crows.
This was all many years ago you understand? During the early reign of the Eighth Emperor, long before he married the young Sylvia and even longer still before little Lilian Lausanne first set foot in Freedos. Inevitably though the years passed and Amala grew older. She never did visit the desert but the dusty streets of Lionsgate felt just as much a part of her as the sea of sands did for her parents. She befriended other children and together they would tear through the city like little waves of chaos. Some had the distinctive blue eyes of the Kerakis coast, others spoke with the North Freedos accent and whereas some shared Amala’s dark skin none had her unique, curly blonde hair. That was how few people travelled to Freedos from the desert. This occasionally made her the subject of a mean word or harsh gesture, but Freedos was so filled with diverse peoples and cultures that any bullying never lasted long before a new kid would show up from some forgotten crack in the world. Besides, if Amala ever did get into any real trouble, she would soon deal with the perpetrator. Surviving on the streets also meant learning to speak a language of threats and violence and Amala was very good at learning languages.
This particular story took place during the winter of Amala’s seventeenth year. She was on her way to a meeting and she was late. The sun had set an hour ago and she was supposed to be there already but she had been held up. The city was on edge ever since the riot took place two weeks previously and getting anywhere after dark was nearly impossible. Soldiers and officers patrolled the streets, arresting gatherings and questioning anyone out after curfew. Luckily Jack was hopping and flapping around the rooftops, squawking warnings and patrol locations down to Amala. Jack was a cheeky crow that enjoyed taking risks and playing pranks so Amala had initially been wary to trust him with such an important task. Thankfully, he was proving to be a very effective lookout.
“Hide.” he shouted down to her. Amala jumped into a doorway just in time to see two armour clad soldiers appear around a corner up ahead. One of them shot a glance down her road but thankfully decided to continue on his way after seeing nothing of interest. Jack cackled in amusement. He’s cutting those warnings very close thought Amala. She peered out in time to catch the moonlight glinting off of the soldier’s scabbard before it disappeared out of sight.
“Safe!” Jack cawed and Amala resumed her journey.
Ten minutes later, Amala found the green door with the mark she’d been shown. The paint was so faint that she actually walked straight past it and if Jack hadn’t shouted his various insults then she would have continued to search through the night. Amala brought out the scrap of paper she had been given and compared the markings. An inky hand stared up at her from the page, identical to the one on the door. She glanced up to her feathery guide.
“Thanks for that.” Jack cackled again.
“Ha! You hide funny.” He said.
“Yeah yeah.” Amala rolled her eyes.
“Bread!” Jack squawked and flapped his wings, demanding his promised reward. Amala reached into her inner pocket and chucked the seeded roll she had promised him for his help. He swooped down and caught the thing deftly midair in his claws.
“Any time Amala.” Jack croaked as he flapped away into the darkness. Amala smiled, cheeky beggar, she thought. He’d promised to bring six friends with which to share the task and the spoils, but of course they all seemed to be mysteriously busy. Amala turned back to the door and knocked.
A young man with grey eyes and a patchy beard opened the door. He eyed Amala suspiciously before sticking his head out to check if she was alone. Once satisfied that she was, he turned back to her.
“The wolf sees the squirrel.” He spoke the phrase in a low whisper, foggy breath catching the warm light that was emanating from within. Amala stared at him blankly.
“Do we have to do that Mikah? I’m freezing out here.” The man glowered and repeated the phrase.
“The wolf sees the squirrel.” Amala groaned.
“The squirrel bites the nut.”
“There,” replied the man, “was that so hard?” Amala pushed past him mumbling something about it being just her out there and how he’s known her since they were kids.
Amala walked into a small room lit by candle light and kept warm by a small pewter stove in the corner. A small table had been placed in the centre with a few odd chairs scattered around it. A few people were gathered inside, their faces looked up in wide-eyed worry when Amala entered.
“It’s okay,” Mikah calmed the group, “She’s a friend. Everyone, this is Amala. She’s the woman I told you about. She’ll be able to help us.”
“Might be able to help you.” Amala corrected him. She wasn’t keen on promising her labour without first knowing what the job was. “Sorry I’m late.”
“That’s alright, we were just about to start talking through the plan.” Mikah motioned for her to sit. There was a large piece of parchment spread out across the table. A large man with fair hair and a red beard quickly put his hand over the paper when he noticed Amala looking at it.
“Hold on,” he said in a gruff voice, “Can we be sure she can be trusted?” The rest of the group looked to Mikah, hoping for their fears to be assuaged.
“What do you mean?” He asked, incredulous.
“Well,” the large man shifted his weight, uncomfortably. “None of us know her. She shows up past curfew after dodging half the army at night? It just… well, it just seems suspicious.” Amala sensed the tension grow close. She looked around the makeshift meeting room. Some old barrels were stacked in a corner next to a few bits of furniture that had been covered in dust sheets. It was a storeroom that wreaked of necessity over comfort.
“Listen Mikah,” Amala whispered to her friend, “I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. Maybe I should…”
“Nonsense.” Mikah interrupted her. “Everyone is just scared.” He turned back to the small crowd, “But believe me, Amala is perfect for this. The fact that she got here undetected should be seen as proof of that, not as a cause for suspicion.” His calming voice had the desired effect. Amala smiled at the memories of all the fights he’d broken up in her childhood. He was calm and level headed even back then, she was proud to see him put those talents to good use.
The large bearded man, mumbled an apology and took his hand away from the parchment. Amala could finally see what was drawn there. It took some deciphering but as she circled the table she finally saw the outlines and details of a large building. It was an architect’s plan of some sort. Amala took her seat next to a small woman who smiled at her with big brown eyes, full of hope and fear. From this angle the building’s distinctive turrets and narrow arrow slits became obvious. A cold chill ran down Amala’s back. She glanced up at Mikah.
“Is that?”
“The tower?” he replied, “Yes, yes I’m afraid it is.” Amala’s heart sank and she began to shake her head. “Now before you say anything, just hear us out.”
“Mikah if you think I’m going to help…” Amala started to protest but stopped when she noticed Mikah’s eyes glistening with tears and his lip beginning to quiver.
“They’ve got him, Amala. They’ve got Nicholas.”
“As you know, we’ve all been working hard on trying to gain support these past few weeks. The emperor’s madness is out of control and we know we can’t fight his soldiers so we’ve been trying different things. Peaceful protests, non-violent gatherings. I can see you rolling your eyes but it works Amala, it just takes more time. We’ve had more people ask us about the hand than ever before. We stand for change but not at the cost of bloodshed. Well, I don’t know if you remember, but two weeks ago we organised our biggest protest to date. We were all going to gather in the square at the top of Laga boulevard and sit down for half an hour. We wanted to cause inconvenience, not disruption or destruction. Well, we expected seventy or eighty people to show up and we were delighted when we got more than two hundred. Lots of people were asking about us and how they could get involved. It was exciting but also peaceful, it was a community coming out against oppression in a peaceable, approachable way. Nicholas was in his element. Orchestrating the crowds, getting people to sing and chant. There were police there but he spoke with them and reassured them that nothing more was going to happen. It was all going so well. Then at around midday that big group showed up. They were all men, large, thuggish looking types. I remember wondering why some were wearing leather bracers, especially when all the flyers and conversations were about non-violent, peaceful protest. Nicholas and I tried to speak to them but they ignored us. Next thing we knew, one of them had grabbed a crate of apples from a nearby cart and put it through the window of a shop. I ran over to try and stop them. Nicholas was trying to calm everyone down but two of the men had hit an officer in the back of the head and he had crumpled to the floor. People started to panic. Someone screamed as more officers showed up and started trying to disperse us with batons. The whole square was like a powder keg. Sitting idle one moment, and then up in flames the next. People saw the officers beating up a young girl and so decided to intervene, which only made them implicit in the violence. It was exactly what we were trying to avoid. I’m ashamed to say that I ran. I looked about for Nicholas but I couldn’t see him. Later I was told that someone saw him being dragged into the back of a black carriage, his hands were shackled and he had a large bruise on his face. He’s in the tower now. And if we’re going to survive. If peace and reason still have a place in this city, then we need him back. I... need him back.”
Amala took a deep breath and glanced back down at the table. The stove was burning low and a chill was creeping into the low lit room. The group had grown quiet, lost in the sad memories of that day. Amala had not been there but she had heard about the riot. Some said that the violence had always been the plan from the start, but seeing Mikah relive the events, she knew that that could not be true. She wanted to know who those men were, who sent for them, who instructed them to start the fights. But she knew that if Mikah had that information, he would have shared it already. Amala breathed out a long and heavy sigh.
“Well,” she said, “My rates have gone up.” And then, for the first time in many nights, Mikah smiled.
Officially it was known as Orwhen’s Tower after Aldous Orwhen. He had been a particularly cruel inquisitor employed by the previous emperor to hunt witches. The design and construction of the tower had taken six years and Amala doubted if its walls had ever seen a single witch. This had been a cover of course, it mainly housed free thinkers and political dissidents, a function still being employed to this day. The tower was not constructed within the city walls but was instead built about a mile to the north east. Like a fixed and menacing moon it reminded anyone that dared to look over the walls that being out of the view of the palace did not necessarily mean that you were free. Amala had thankfully never visited the tower but two days after meeting Mikah and his band of peaceful revolutionaries she found herself trudging through the marshy fields towards the miniature fortress. It was night, she was wearing her favourite cloak, the one with the hood and the crow feathers sewn into the black stained wool. The hood covered her blonde hair so hopefully anyone looking out from the tower would only see a sea of darkness. She avoided the road, sticking to the wet, boggy land that surrounded the tower. From here she could still see the road and she made sure to keep an eye out for any comings and goings between the tower and the north gate. So far, there had been none. She muttered a curse under her breath as her left foot fell into yet another wet hole. She pulled it out with a loud squelch and began to understand why the Tower had been built on such treacherous ground. Anyone running across this land in the dark would quickly break a leg, or worse, be swallowed up entirely by the bog. Amala slapped a mosquito that had landed on her cheek and muttered something about not being paid enough.
It was slow going, but by two o’clock in the morning, or thereabouts, she was within sight of the east wall. The light of the stars reflected off of its sand coloured surface. An occasional movement at the top told her that guards were still patrolling the ramparts. No doubt armed with swords and halberds, Amala knew she had to do everything within her power to avoid being spotted by them, or else end up in a cell or even just as a head on a spike. She looked about and spied a small copse a little way away. She made her way over to it and was disappointed to see that it was nothing more than a half dead tree. Moss and weeds were climbing up its trunk like it too was slowly being dragged into the swamp and was reaching up into the sky in one last attempt to save itself. Still, it provided some cover from the tower and that was all she needed. She sat down on a mossy clod, pulled her shoulder pack round and reached inside. Her hands were wet and nearly numb and so she could only clumsily feel about for the seeded bread rolls she had brought with her. Hearing one crunch between her fingers, she brought it out and looked to the tower.
Everyone knew that the crows who lived in the tower were big, mean looking creatures. Amala had never met any as they tended to stay within the tower walls, hovering over it like a dark and ominous cloud during the day and cawing incessantly at night, driving the occupants mad from lack of sleep. When she had asked the city crows about them, words like ‘brutes’ and ‘uglies’ cropped up again and again. Despite their reputation though, they were still crows, and so were intelligent and curious by nature. It did not take long then for one to flutter down to Amala’s tree to inspect her.
“Woman!” it called out, signalling its fresh find to its friends in the tower. It was indeed bigger than the birds she was used to seeing in Freedos. Its beak glistened in the starlight, slick with some strange liquid. “Not dead, not dying.” The crow spat words out, Amala wondered if she detected a hint of disappointment in its voice. Suddenly, another crow flew down to join its friend. They eyed her cautiously, flicking and twisting their heads to see her clearly with both eyes. Amala raised the small seeded roll up, holding it aloft like an offering.
“What?”/
“What is it?”
“Bread?”
“For us.” The crows discussed the gift, nervously. Soon, two or three more flew down and peppered the branches of the old tree. Come on. Thought Amala. Take the bread. The crows followed her hand as she placed the roll on a nearby clump of moss.
“What is it?” asked a particularly large bird who had just joined the group.
“Bread.”
“Bread.”
“Bread.”
“Bread with seeds.” There was a short silence. Suddenly, the birds began to laugh.
Laughs and caws.
“Ha!” “Hahaaa” “HA” “hahaha”
“She brings us bread.”
“Weak food.”
“Food for weak birds.”
“Chicken food.”
“Chaffinch, Chicken food.” Suddenly one of the younger birds flew down, picked up the roll in its claws and dropped it directly into a puddle. To the casual observer it might have looked like the bird had swooped down, miscalculated the weight of the roll and accidentally let go upon trying to fly away with it. But the chorus of laughter and jeers told Amala that the act had been no accident. Fine, she thought, I thought this might happen. She reached into her bag once again and found one of the cold steaks she had purchased that morning. The meat was still fresh and wet to the touch. As soon as Amala unwrapped the steak from its paper packaging, the laughter stopped and the crows went completely silent. Just as Amala had suspected, these birds were meat eaters.
“Flesh.” said the biggest crow. Amala saw a similar wetness on its beak as well, and realised now that it was probably blood.
“You can have it if you like,” she said, holding the steak out in front of her.
“She speaks,”
“Speaking”
“Speaks to us.”
“Yes I can understand you. I’m a friend. Here, see?” Amala put the steak down on the moss where the bread roll had been sitting seconds earlier. The largest crow hopped down and stood over it, one foot half on the meat, testing or claiming it. It cocked its head at Amala.
“No trick.” it squawked.
“No trick.” Amala replied. At that, the bird picked away a few morsels and ate its fill. When it finished it flew back up into the tree. This was the signal for the other birds to feed. A storm of black feathers and greedy cries filled the air and in less than a minute, the steak was gone. Amala looked up into the branches and smiled. She pulled out a small note rolled up and tied in a black bow.
“I have more if you like. But if you want it. You must do something for me.”
An hour later Amala was following a young crow through the marsh. It hopped and flapped a few feet in front of her, shooting furtive looks back to make sure she was still following.
“Mind!” it cawed, nodding at a large patch of mud. Amala avoided it and continued picking her way through the mud. She was very near the walls of the tower now, practically underneath them. She thanked her dark cloak for keeping her hidden. The crows had given her Nicholas’ location, describing him as an ‘odd one’ or the ‘quiet man’. He was being kept on the third floor of the northeast wing. Crows thankfully did not care about the plights and fights of men and so readily gave her the information in return for a steady flow of red meat. This young bird, who was called Brooke, had been the only one left after the last of the meat was all gone. She was small and so had difficulty fighting for food. When Amala had offered her bread instead, she had gladly accepted it.
“Here.” she cawed, flying over to the base of the wall. She pointed down at a murky puddle at the bottom of a small slope. The ground was hollowed out here and water had been collecting at the bottom of it. Amala looked at Brooke in confusion. She had promised to find her a way into the walls in return for a seeded loaf. But now that they had reached it, Brooke said the last word Amala wanted to hear.
“Swim.” Amala’s heart sank.
“You must be joking?”
“No trick. Hole. Swim under and forward. Come up then, cellar.”
“Gracious gods.” Amala mumbled. She began to take off her cloak, bag and any other valuables she didn’t want ruined from the water.
“Bread!” shouted Brooke.
“Yes yes, alright.” Amala reached into her pack and tossed the roll to Brooke. She jumped out of the way and watched it land, immediately starting to eat the seeds as soon as it stopped rolling. Amala took off her boots and began to pick her way down the small slope. She could feel cold mud gathering between her toes. Amala took several quick breaths, trying to calm her heavy heartbeat. She cursed Mikah and swore that if she lost a toe he would have to give her one of his. She dipped her foot into the mud stained water, even in the low light she could tell it was thick with dirt. She retracted her foot quickly, her body instinctively rejecting the cold. A few prayers and curses later, Amala lowered herself into the mud. She wouldn’t be able to open her eyes once underneath so she felt for the hole in the wall before fully immersing herself. It was small, only just large enough to fit through.
“Good luck.” Brooke squawked from the top of the slope.
“Thanks.” Amala whispered in reply. She looked back at the water, which was up to her chest now. Here we go, she thought. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pulled herself under the surface.
It was like diving under a layer of ice. All Amala could do was grope the broken wall above and around her, finding any handhold she could and pulling herself forward. She had no idea how thick the wall was and so hurried as best she could, careful not to let any bits of clothing snag on a stray rock or outcropping of wall. It took exactly one minute and twenty-three seconds for her to swim through the wall. At the last moment she panicked when her hand could not find a section of wall above her, but she realised that this was because she’d finally come to the other side. She was about to launch herself up and out of the muddy liquid, but remembered where she was and elected to breach the surface as slowly and carefully as her lack of breath allowed her. Wiping the mud and water from her eyes Amala finally breathed in and glanced around at her new surroundings.
She found herself in a dark room, with a small set of steps leading up to a door. If it hadn’t been for a barred slit in the wall, she would have had to navigate her way by touch alone. Thankfully the starlight was reflected off the damp stone floor and walls. There were some iron bars and canvas bags of sand stacked up in the corner suggesting that this room was some forgotten store from when the tower was still being built. Amala pulled herself up and out of the water. Her body was shivering uncontrollably and she had to take a minute to jump around and warm up in silence before the shaking stopped. Amala looked up at the stone steps. She kept telling herself that the hard part was over, but no matter how she put it, it still sounded like a lie.
The inside of the tower was a dank, dark and generally unpleasant place. Occasionally a torch flickered and spat in an iron sconce, lighting the way along clammy corridors. The whole structure was built around a large central courtyard. Amala caught glimpses of guards patrolling the upper ramparts as she passed open doorways. Thankfully, their attention was all focused outwards. She was most nervous when climbing the tight spiral staircases that linked the lower and upper floors. Twice she thought she heard footsteps coming down, but they turned out to either be an open door swinging on its hinges, or a flag flapping in the breeze. Amala had broken into several secure locations in her lifetime, but this was something else. The doors were thankfully unlocked but each one had a heavy bar hanging behind it, as if the occupants were expecting some sort of invasion. More than once Amala had to remind herself that this was a prison and not a fortress. She only caught glimpses of cells on her way up and up the tower. She did not want to risk showing her face to anyone, especially not a prisoner who might trade in her whereabouts for an extra scrap of food. At one point she peeked around a corner only to have to jump straight back in alarm as a guard was walking down the corridor towards her. She worried about the sound of her bare feet slapping against the stone floors and so was always careful to tread a soft heel toe step. Heel toe, heel toe slowly slow she kept thinking. Occasionally she would glance up at a window or arrow slit to see a curious crow. They were tracking her progress. She wondered if she might be able to call on their help again, should the need arise. Thankfully, they kept their beaks shut throughout her journey.
Finally she reached the third floor. She was warmer now, the journey through the tower having elevated her heart rate, but her wet clothes still clung to her skin. Amala hiked up her trousers so that she could crouch low without them stretching around her knees. She knelt behind a door and looked through the keyhole. The third floor corridor was different to the others. There were more torches along the walls which for Amala meant fewer shadows to creep between. The one advantage was that the stone floor actually had a carpet running all the way along it. It was a threadbare, sorry looking thing but it would dampen her steps all the same. The wooden doors that lined the hallway all had small windows carved into them at head height. These made it easier for the guards to see the inside of the cells without opening the doors. Amala was looking through her keyhole at one when a guard walked slowly past her eye line. She was so on edge that she nearly gasped when he appeared. Amala closed her eyes and scolded herself. She was so close now, she had to focus, she had to relax. Amala took a slow, deep breath and waited. If the crows had been telling the truth then the note would have been delivered, and the signal would be imminent.
Two minutes went by and Amala began to worry that the crows had just dropped the note in a puddle, or placed it at the top of the tallest flagpole as a joke. But then, she heard the signal.
A man’s voice cried out in pain somewhere down the corridor. Amala looked through the keyhole to see what was happening. She saw movement. A guard that she hadn’t noticed before came into view from near her door and looked down the hallway, curiously. He was still until a second cry came from the cell at which point he sprang into action. He was a portly fellow and his iron breastplate rattled as he ran. He carried a halberd in his right hand. Amala saw its sharp edge and menacing point catch the light of the torches as he ran down towards the cell. Another guard had appeared from the other end and they both met in the middle, next to the door where the cry had come from. Here we go, thought Amala as she slowly lifted the latch and opened the door.
“What’s the matter?” One of the guards shouted through the small window in the cell door.
“My skin!” a shrill voice replied from within, “I feel like i’m on fire. Oh good gods above us, it hurts!”
“Settle down.” The second guard struck the door, sending a small echo down the hallway.
“Good sir, my flesh is crawling with a million beetles, my eyes burn and my stomach turns. Please, I… I... need…” The prisoner went quiet.
“Hey!” One of the guards shouted. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s shaking. Heeey hey! If he swallows his tongue or sommink we’re cooked.”
“Twelve hells.” The larger guard swore and began fiddling with the ring of keys on his belt. He found the right one, slotted it into the door and opened it. Amala was only a few feet behind him now, she could see the prisoner, Nicholas, writhing and shaking on the floor. She admired his convincing performance. The two guards rushed inside the cell at the same time. Amala saw her opportunity and seized it. Using their momentum against them she drove her weight into their backs sending them hurtling forwards. Nicholas, instantly cured of his convulsions, leaped up onto all fours and planted himself firmly in front of them. Both men hit him at speed and were bowled over with barely a shout. The sound of clattering iron on stone resounded round the cell as the halberds were dropped and the breastplates connected with the floor. Amala jumped deftly over Nicholas and landed on the back of the portly guard, she grabbed a handful of his hair from the back of his head and thrust the man’s face hard into the stone. A sickening thud told her he was out cold. She turned to look at the other guard, his face was frozen in fear. Amala realised she must have looked quite shocking. Mud covered and dangerous, she brought her finger to her lips and bade the man keep quiet, lest he meet the same fate as his friend. The guard shuffled backwards and put his hands up to show her they were empty. Amala smiled and turned back to Nicholas.
He was a tall man with brown hair and a handsome face. He’d spent two weeks in the tower but he didn’t look too bad for it. His shoulders were still broad and his cheeks full of colour. He looked at her with a serious expression.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” replied Amala in a hurried whisper. Nicholas reached down for the ring of keys.
“We should lock them in.” Amala nodded in agreement.
Seconds later, she twisted the key in the lock.
“You’re gonna regret this,” the conscious guard spoke the warning from inside the cell. Amala tried to ignore him.
“Are there more guards on this floor?” She asked Nicholas.
“Not on this corridor, but we should hurry, these two are set to be relieved soon. Why are you covered in mud?” Amala began leading him back the way she came.
“If I told you, you might not want to escape.” Nicholas looked concerned. “Amala Checkad, by the way.”
“Nicholas Telson.” They shook hands briefly before turning back to the entryway.
The two of them kept low and quiet, Amala’s plan was to go out the way she came and be halfway across the marsh before anyone realised Nicholas was missing. The staircase was still clear and although they had to patiently wait for a couple of patrols to pass by, the escape was relatively unimpeded. The main problem came when Amala turned a corner on the ground floor and saw a guard blocking the entrance to the flooded basement. She put a hand out to stop Nicholas. He looked at her with a confused expression. She had to lean in very close to his ear to communicate the issue.
“Guard. By the door. We need that room.” Nicholas poked his head round the corner to see for himself. Turning back to Amala he mimed punching someone in the face. Amala shook her head, mouthing the words “too loud.” She thought for a second. Her heart began to race again, every moment they weren’t moving was a moment that a new patrol could turn the corner and see them. Thankfully, Nicholas had an idea. He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to a dark end of the central courtyard. Amala narrowed her eyes and tried to see what he was pointing at. Outlined in the gloom, she saw a pair of wooden carts. Nicholas leant forward to whisper,
“They leave for the city at dawn. We hide inside now and wait.” Amala considered the option. A decision needed to be made quickly. She didn’t like the idea of leaving her cloak behind but she did admit that it was a relatively small price to pay. She nodded.
They had to retrace their steps a little to find a courtyard entrance and Amala would not go out into the open without first being sure that all guards were looking out towards the marsh. After checking every conceivable angle she finally felt confident enough to move. Her heart was in her throat because in order to get to the carts they would have to be exposed for roughly eight or nine seconds. If just one guard decided to look in instead of out during that window, the plan would fail. Amala counted down from five using her fingers. When her hand became a fist she took a deep breath and ran out into the courtyard.
She made it five steps, with no problems. Ten steps with no alarms. The carts were in throwing distance now. She decided to shoot a brief look behind her, just to check that Nicholas had not tripped or fallen. She hadn’t heard his footsteps behind her for some time. She turned her head to find the courtyard empty. Had Nicholas not seen the signal? Amala panicked and skidded to a halt. Where was Nicholas? Should she call his name, or go back and get him? She jerked her head back round to the carts, just to check that he hadn’t over taken her without her realising. But he was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, images started popping into her head.
Things that had seemed strange at the time but that Amala’s nerves had brushed off as coincidence or dumb luck. The lack of guards on the third floor. Nicholas’ healthy complexion. The single guard posted in front of the exact door she’d needed to get out. Nicholas’ knowledge of the comings and goings of courtyard carts when his cell had overlooked the marsh. Her heart sank deeper and deeper. She could hear the boots now. Ten, twenty maybe thirty pairs all rushing down narrow corridors, metal breastplates clanking and rattling in time. She looked up to see not one but every single guard on the top most parapet staring down at her and aiming their bows. The soldiers all appeared at once, flooding into the courtyard like army ants from a hive. Amala’s stomach sank as she raised her arms in surrender.
“There she is warden! The woman who assaulted the guards and dragged me out of my cell.” Amala turned to see Nicholas standing next to a smartly dressed man pointing an accusatory finger directly at her. Amala’s fear quickly turned to anger.
“You traitorous rat Nicholas.” She yelled.
“Hear how she deflects the blame!? She says I’m a traitor, when she is the one who is trying to drag me away from the emperor’s justice.” The soldiers lowered their halberds and aimed the point directly at her. Amala cursed. They looked like they were ready to face an army, not one unarmed woman. It was all a show, a gruesome display of misplaced loyalty. Amala’s blood boiled.
“It was you!” she shouted. “You were the one who organised the mob to attack and to blame The Hand. You probably turned yourself in didn’t you? You traitorous slimy rat dog pig!” Amala hurled her insults into the night. The soldiers stepped closer. “What about Mikah, huh? He trusted you! Did that mean nothing?” She looked at Nicholas trying to find the last semblance of humanity or decency in his face. All she saw was a smug, self-satisfied smile.
“You have me wrong, Amala. I’m still committed to non-violence. But Mikah is an idealist, he sees only the good in others. I’m more of a realist. I see others for what they are. Mikah’s little group could never have lasted. I want to bring about real and lasting change. And change needs a friendly, but firm and guiding hand.” Amala spat on the floor at his feet. The soldiers advanced and all she could do was kneel and wait to be imprisoned. She looked up at the stars for what she knew would be the last time in a long while. She saw the crows perched on top of the tower walls laughing laughing laughing.
Benlunar - Episode 26
Lilian talks with the people’s champion.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasite
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
“There we go, nice warm cup of tea. I’ll just set that down there for you. I’m terribly sorry I don’t have any biscuits or confectionary. Very unlike me. You know my son sometimes brings me back sugared pears from Zandt sometimes. Have you ever had one? Truly remarkable. Now then, what is all this you were saying about a man on the Laga Boulevard? Oh… my good Gods around us.” Had Ryland Twitchett still been carrying his tray of tea, he would have dropped it from the shock. Lying on the ground in the middle of his shop floor, there was a man. He was dirty and had long hair. He seemed to have only just opened the door before collapsing next to Lilian. Lilian! Mr Twitchett remembered that she was there, she was sitting very still. The poor girl surely had been through enough today without this added nuisance.
“Lilian why don’t you be on your way, I think your services will not be required today.” He expected the girl to just walk right out, but she stayed. She even looked up at him to say,
“This is him! This is the man from the Boulevard, the one I was telling you about.”
This changed everything. Mr Twitchett immediately went over to shut the door and lock it. Pocketing the key he turned back to Lilian and gave her instructions.
“Help me get him into the back. You take the arms, I’ve got the legs.” The pair managed to move the collapsed man, but it was slow going. Luckily no one peeked through the window while they were lifting and wheezing. Mr Twitchett threw out several curses as he felt a familiar pain flaring in his lower back. Finally they managed to set him down into a small armchair Mr Twitchett had in his office.
The back room of the shop was referred to as an office, but it was more like a workshop. It stank of chemicals and glue and every surface was a mess of wings, scraps, tools or knives. Sweating slightly, Mr Twitchett turned to his young helper,
“You said his name was Genaro?” She nodded and then looked confused.
“Do you know him?” Mr Twitchett gave a curt tut, a sort of half spit.
“Ts, I know of him. He’s a noble, turned terrorist or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.” There was a pause, Lilian wondered if it would be safe for them to be so near him when he woke up. Mr Twitchett was more worried about dust stains on his nice chair.
“You know what Lilian, why don’t you go and gather a few blankets from that green basket and we can put him on the floor. It might be quite some time before he wakes up.”
It took the man called Genaro exactly sixteen hours and twelve minutes to regain consciousness. Lilian knew this because she checked the clock tower on her way to work the next day and Mr Twitchett had a tall standing clock in his shop that occasionally chimed with the hour. Lilian had already been at work for an hour before he showed any signs of waking, but once he did, she and Mr Twitchett set down their dusters and tools and gathered in the office. They stood a few feet away from man, in case he decided to attack either of them upon waking, but there was no need as he moved with deliberate slowness and discomfort.
“Water.” Lilian didn’t hear him speak at first, his voice was so soft, but she quickly realised the nature of his request and sped to fetch him a glass of clean water. They watched him gulp it down with desperate speed and he asked for three more glasses before he said anything other than “Water.” His voice grew bolder with each request and by the time he finished his third glass, he was able to speak clearly. Although visibly weakened by the effects of the Nightshade, he was able to look around and talk. His head was propped up on an old pink cushion stained with sweat. When he finally saw all of the glass eyes in jars, the tools for stripping fur and half stuffed creatures all around him he began to seem a little panicked.
“It’s alright,” Lilian assured him, “You’re in a taxidermy shop.” This seemed to put him at ease.
“Oh… Which one? The Hunter’s Regret or…”
“The Gilded Garden.” Lilian interrupted him. This put him further at ease.
“How long have I been out?”
“Nearly a day.” Lilian wanted to ask him so many things. During the night she had felt a fire light inside her, one who’s heat had been dimming so slowly that she’d barely noticed it go out. But now it was back. Fanned by mystery and fueled by danger Lilian was alive with the memories of her mission. She had promised Katherine to not go looking for trouble, but how could she be blamed if trouble literally walked through the door and collapsed on the floor at her feet?
With Genaro now awake the questions bubbled over and came out in an avalanche,
“I saw you in the street, with those men. Did you drink Nightshade? What was it like? Where did you get it?” Genaro simply stared at Lilian with a confused look on his face. It was currently difficult for him to process his own thoughts, let alone this barrage of questions. Finally, he came to one simple conclusion.
“I have to go.” Lilian’s face fell. Was she not going to learn anything useful from this man? He clearly had insight that she needed. She looked around for inspiration, there must be some way to convince him to stay that didn’t involve threatening him… but all she kept seeing was knives and horrible looking hooks. Luckily, Mr Twitchett came to the rescue.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re going to sit here and rest. Don’t worry, no one followed you here, we checked. If you leave now you’ll have half the city itching to report you to the Weardian, while the other half are trying to kill you. Now…” At this, Mr Twitchett pulled up a stool and sat very close to the makeshift bed. Lilian noticed that he was holding a large, serrated spoon which he waved around while he talked. “You gave my young friend here quite the scare yesterday. She came in shaking like a leaf. I think you owe us a story. Or at least that’s what you’ll give us, or else your lot can stop expecting me to keep delivering little notes to each other. That’s right, I know all about it.” Lilian saw Genaro’s eyes widen when Mr Twitchett mentioned the notes. She had no idea what that was about but she didn’t want to interrupt. Mr Twitchett began half talking to himself, Lilian noticed that he did this when he was working sometimes but on this occasion it felt more like he was talking to her.
“This has Sons of Taymar written all over it. It started as ‘love notes’ but you think I wouldn’t notice if suddenly half the city are using stuffed animals to send messages to each other?” Now he actually turned and spoke directly to Lilian, “They’re all fools and they have us doing their mule work. Of course, I had to accept because the shop was losing money but, since they started their little message network we’ve actually been doing rather well. That’s one reason I was able to hire you.” Lilian couldn’t take it any longer.
“Wait, I don’t understand. Who are the Sons of Taymar?” She recognised the name from an old lesson of Brother Thomas’. Taymar was a Goddess of some sort.
“Huh!” Mr Twitchett huffed, “He can tell you, he’s one of them.” Lilian looked at Genaro who was slowly shifting into a seated position.
“First of all, thank you for your help. I’m sorry to have got you involved in all this but as you say, you were partly involved already. Albeit with a degree of deniability.” He turned to Lilian. She noticed that his eyes were still discoloured, the whites were dark grey, almost purple and his hair was ratty from sweat.
“My name is Alexi Genaro, I work with the sons of Taymar, we are a resistance group whose goal is to overthrow the Empress.” He said it with an air of ease that Lilian didn’t think possible when addressing such a serious matter.
“Why?” Genaro smiled and almost laughed but quickly stopped himself, rubbing his head instead, still in apparently quite a lot of discomfort.
“You must be new to Freedos, or else you live with your eyes closed. She’s a tyrant. Her tower on top of the city is like a boot that crushes the life beneath it. We stand against the many atrocities she commits on a daily basis simply by allowing Freedos to be this way. The poor struggle to eat and meanwhile the rich eat so much they make themselves sick. The Weardian float around like angels of chaos and she lets them kill and imprison anyone who crosses them.” Genero paused to take a deep breath, this was clearly a topic very close to his heart. Lilian didn’t want to rush him but was finding it difficult to bite her tongue. He reached over to drink the last drops of another cup of water.
“Gods that’s good. I’ve had hangovers before but this is… this is like ten hangovers at once.” Lilian had never had a hangover, but if they were anything like what she was witnessing, even a tenth, then she was in no rush to try one. “Yes we use stuffed animals to send messages to each other. They’re surprisingly useful as no one ever wonders to look inside them, they can be delivered in the middle of the day and to houses in any part of the city. The notes are also coded but I don’t think we’ve had to rely on the code just yet, I would prefer it if their presence stayed a secret.” Mr Twitchett folded his arms and gave a derisive “Hmph!”
Genaro smiled and turned back to Lilian. “What else was there?”
“The Nightshade. Why did you have it and where did you get it from? Also…” She stopped as he raised his arms to slow her down.
“Yes yes. The Nightshade has recently become a large part of my work. We don’t know where it’s come from but suddenly it was everywhere. I needed to investigate it and the Sons of Taymor needed money to finance the investigation. I went to a certain, unsavoury individual to get a loan and I have yet been able to pay it back. I put it to good use though, I found a Nightshade supplier and managed to steal a bottle. I had it in my head that I would drink it and take out my debtor.”
“Is that Bried?” Genaro looked surprised but then must have remembered the events in the street the day before. He nodded at which point Mr Twitchett interjected.
“You’re an even bigger fool that you look. As if investigating that stuff wasn’t bad enough, you had to borrow money from someone whose job relies on putting people in her pocket.”
“Yes well as your young friend here saw yesterday, that plan didn’t go very well. Her thugs stopped me on my way to see her and my hand was forced. I do feel like a fool, and perhaps you’re right to call me one. I’ve made it practically impossible to wander the streets and worse, my Nightshade source will have gone into hiding.” This last sentence sparked an idea inside Lilian. SHE knew where he could find Nightshade. SHE knew more about how it was delivered. Should she tell him everything she knew? Once again the voice of Mr Attorcop spoke up in her mind.
“When one has power, one has the advantage.” She allowed herself a moment of sadness when recalling his manner. And she decided to listen to the voice and keep her cards close to her chest. She needed to know if this man could be trusted and what his intentions might be if he found a new supplier.
It was at this point however that Genaro asked for food. The request suddenly made Lilian aware of her own hunger pangs. She left the shop with some coins and travelled a little further than her usual lunch spots. The regular places might ask questions about who the third lunch might be for and Lilian was trying to think several steps ahead of anyone who might be working against the resistance. Did this make HER part of the resistance? Like it or not she was involved now. And if she reopened her investigation against Mr Attorcop’s imposter in order to help them, surely she was doing something good? She wondered past a flower stall, deep in thought. She would not exactly be putting herself in the line of fire. She could work with Genaro and let him take down a Nightshade supplier. And if that Nightshade supplier happened to be ruining a man’s reputation by using his name and address to commit crimes then that was just an added benefit. Lilian finally found a baker in a small courtyard. In the centre of the space was a big tree which was shielding the court from the effects of the dust. The baker’s bright red sign was therefore clearly visible and Lilian came out minutes later clutching three warm cheese rolls.
By the time she returned to The Gilded Garden, Lilian had resolved to tell Genaro about her experiences with Mr Attorcop’s imposter. She would leave out the bits about gloaming but still warn him that she suspected the man to be dangerous. She walked into the shop brandishing the rolls and found Genaro to be sitting on the stool, chatting with Mr Twitchett and holding a steaming mug of tea. They both turned to look at Lilian when she walked through the back door of the shop, Lilian wondered if she had interrupted a serious conversation.
“I got some rolls.” She reached into her bag and unwrapped the rolls from a cloth. She handed one to Mr Twtichett, who thanked her and one to Genaro who just eyed her in silence while accepting the bread. He sniffed at it and then took three big bites in quick succession. He threw his head back and closed his eyes.
“Mmm still warm.” Lilian smiled and bit into her bun. It had a delicious texture that made it crumble in her mouth and a strong smoky flavour, as if the cheese had been ever so slightly burned in the baking. The three chewed in silence for a time. Lilian felt herself grow nervous. How would she reintroduce the topic of Nightshade? Or explain how she knew about Mr Attorcop’s imposter? It was Genaro who broke the silence, interrupting Lilian’s train of thought.
“Ryland tells me you’re from out of town.” Lilian suddenly became aware of the silence in the room. With all the drama of Genaro waking before, she had failed to notice just how quiet this back space was, especially when all eyes are on you. His tone was familiar enough, but Lilian couldn’t help but detect a note of accusation. Thinking little of it, she nodded.
“I’ve only been here a few weeks.”
“Where are you from?” Lilian considered making up a place, but these men already knew her real name, it didn’t seem worth risking a lie here.
“I grew up in a town called Benlunar.” Turns out she needn’t have worried because both men looked at her with blank expressions.
“Is that in Benicost?” asked Mr Twitchett.
“No. It’s in the mountain range to the East.” Both men gave a sound of understanding.
“Ahh. And what brings you to the city?” Lilian paused for thought. It would be from here on that she would have to choose her words carefully. She knew that every lie needed to be peppered with the truth in order to stay believable. She knew that offering too many details was a mistake as truths tended to be short due to the fact that the speaker doesn’t feel the need to justify them. She always thought herself an accomplished liar and she had picked up a few extra tips from Mr Attorcop on their journey.
“I travelled to Freedos with my uncle. He lives here and needed some help with his work. I had never been to Freedos so I was excited. We got separated on the journey though.” Lilian paused, baiting the question out of her audience. This was how one controlled both sides of a conversation.
“Did you organise a place to meet in the city?” Genaro asked. Lilian almost smiled.
“Yes. And I’ve been going there every day to check but he hasn’t arrived, what’s worse is that there is a man living there, claiming to be him!” This got quite a reaction from her two listeners. Lilian thought Genaro was going to let a piece of bread fall out of his mouth.
“Whatever do you mean?” said Mr Twitchett.
“I mean he’s using my uncle’s name, he’s living in his place and I haven’t told anyone because, well, he’s quite scary.” Mr Twitchett and Genaro shot each other concerned looks. Lilian was happy to have diverted the topic of conversation away from her and on to something she wanted to bring up anyway.
“What makes him scary?” Genaro asked, popping the last morsel of roll in to his mouth and talking through half chewed bread.
“Well… it’s funny.” Lilian paused, looking away so as to build tension, “The reason I was interested in the Nightshade is that I think I saw that man with some.” Genaro’s eyes widened and Lilian knew she had him on the hook. Now just to reel him in.
“You saw him with Nightshade?”
“Not just him. I saw him get it from some Weardian.” Genaro almost choked on his roll. After spluttering for a few seconds, his eyes red from coughing, he leant close to Lilian and spoke softly.
“Tell me everything.” Lilian smiled, the hunt was back on.
The rest of the afternoon involved a lot of arguing, mainly between Genaro and Mr Twitchett. Both men had valid points. Genaro waxed lyrical about how he was a defender of the people and it was his sworn duty to eliminate any and all threats to their safety. Mr Twitchett would counter with a reminder of how Genaro had nearly died trying to fulfill that dutyr. Lilian was reminded of her argument with Katherine but slowly came to realise that unlike her, Genaro would not back down. He was a strange man, full of bluster and righteousness. Every sentence sounded like a proclamation, he talked the way a hero might talk in a story while saving a village from a dragon. He swept his arms in large gestures and pounded his fist on the table when making a point, which seemed to be quite a lot of the time. Lilian told him everything she knew, sticking as close to the truth as possible. She even informed him of the manure bombs under the floor, claiming that she recognised their smell from her work with her uncle, which was very close to the truth. He left the shop after an hour, thanking her and Mr Twitchett for their kindness. As he was leaving he even turned to say,
“If ever the Sons of Taymar can repay your kindness, do not hesitate to ask.” This pleased Lilian greatly as she had managed to earn a favour as well as have someone else deal with her problem. Mr Attorcop would have been proud.
She left the shop shortly after with a smile and a hope. But by the time she reached her small room and climbed the many stairs to unlock the rickety lock, she was worried again. Fritha greeted her with a loud clang and a happy wagging tail and Lilian put her on her lead and took her straight out. There was a small park nearby where Lilian enjoyed walking her. She tended to avoid the larger parks and river banks as many people walked their dogs there and often people were curious about what breed Fritha was. Lilian needed time to think and walking Fritha always cleared her head. She was having the same worry over and over play out in her mind. By the time she reached the small park it had had fifteen different variations and Lilian couldn’t wrestle a solution from any of them. She worried that Genaro was going to get arrested. Or caught again by Bried’s men. She worried that he was all talk and that he would go straight home and fall asleep for the next five days. The past twenty-four hours had re-lit the fire for justice inside her and she could not handle going back to ignoring its heat. And so she took inspiration from Genaro, and made a resolution. Tonight she would go back to the false Mr Attorcop’s house and watch, just to make sure that Genaro went through with his promise. Lilian was looking at Fritha chase a squirrel up a tree as she made the vow. Fritha looked dismayed but padded back to Lilian with her head held high. It was then that she made the decision. A task as important as this one could not be left up to chance. Tonight she would watch Genaro and if he encountered any danger, she would intervene.
Once dusk had past and night had taken hold of the city sky, when most citizens had finished their nightcaps and crawled into sleep, Lilian Lausanne prepared to focus. She sat down on the floor in the only patch of light. The moon was high and full in the sky and past through the glass in Lilian’s window like a welcome guest. This had been one of the reasons she had chosen to live in this little room. The window was positioned directly in the angled ceiling and her first night there she had gazed in amazement as the light of the moon illuminated the cramped space. She was sitting beneath that window now, her red hair shimmering in the silver light. The carpet was rough beneath her heels, but she found softness in the fur of her feinhound. The creature from legend was lying behind her and Lilian found she could lean slightly back to be more comfortable. Fritha didn’t seem to mind, having drifted into a dream as soon as she hit the floor, exhausted from the lengthy walk. Lilian closed her eyes and brought her breath to her attention. She slowed it down and her heartbeat slowed with it. Gradually the world shifted into a dark canvass splashed with the light of an occasional sound. Fritha’s low breaths shined brightest but there was a conversation happening two floors down which gave off an occasional glimmer. Lilian had considered using her flask of essence to expedite the process but she was so practised in gloaming now that getting the desired result never took too long. The light of the moon seemed to help as well. Lilian had not stopped practising since the night she left William’s house to stalk the imposter. She had yet to leave her little room, but each night she would go through the routine of gloaming, filling first dead and dull things like her carpet or a cracked mug with the golden light inside of her. She had been itching for an excuse to go out again and tonight she had one. The night before she had brought home a flower from a stall, it had been a clipping the stall holder had let her keep and she had used it as a focus for her gloaming. The flower was long dead but even reabsorbing light from a fraction of a petal filled her with the same amount of energy as a large rock. It had been a little too much if Lilian was being honest with herself. She felt quite sick afterwards and had trouble falling asleep, although that could have been the excitement from the events of the day. Tonight Lilian did not want to risk using the flower, even though it would have taken less time, Lilian didn’t want to lose another night’s sleep, not to mention the head spinning and nausea. She instead focused on the carpet and tried bringing her light to meet the threads touching her feet. They were stained and sorry looking things, but they slowly accepted the touch of the light and within twenty minutes she had filled an area equivalent to the size of her palm. She was about to stop persuading the threads and take the light she had lent them back, when she noticed something strange about two or three of the strands. They were glowing with a slightly different colour. In fact, they were glowing many different colours. Lilian sharpened her focus on them and saw that these particular strands were first red, then a bottle green followed again by twisting into gold and copper. She was reminded of… Fritha. And then fear crept into her dark and quiet world. Had she not sensed the difference? Had she not noticed the hairs before sitting down. Or had she known all this and fooled herself into proceeding regardless. Lilian quickly came to terms with the possibility that she had filled several strands of Fritha’s hairs with the golden light. She tried to reassure herself that they were old hairs and there would be little life left in them but fear still pressed into her heart. She wished she had asked Mr Attorcop about how to not reabsorb the light from certain places, she even tried to exclude the hairs while taking back the light from the carpet but it was no use. The light from Frithas fur got mixed in with all the gold coming back, staining it with ever changing colours. Lilian gave up trying to exclude it and simply prayed for it not to make her sick like the flower had done. A few seconds later, Lilian opened her eyes. The moon was as bright as she had expected it to be and the room around her appeared once again clear as if in sunlight. Lilian was used to this sensation by now. She breathed out slowly and was thankful for the familiar scene. She found that she could stand up and jump and crouch as normal. The conversation coming from the floors below was loud and clear now and Lilian picked up several sounds besides. There was a family of birds living in the gutter. Someone had roasted fish that day, most likely the man living across the street. Lilian prodded her stomach to see if she felt any pain or nausea, but there was nothing. Everything was normal. Or, as normal as to be expected in the circumstances. Lilian breathed a sigh of relief. Lilian shifted focus to her immediate surroundings and readied herself to go. She put on dark clothes and comfortable boots and once she was ready she opened the window and scampered over the tin rooftops and away into the night.
Gloaming made rooftop navigation very easy. Her nose could tell which moss clumps were wet and probably slippy and her keen hearing meant she could tell if anyone was stepping too close to any windows with rooftop views. Her elevated eyes made full use of the abundant moonlight and Lilian even stopped once or twice to admire the view. She had not come up here at night while gloaming before and Lilian felt a special privilege when looking out over the glistening tin rooftops. The occasional lamp or candle shone brightly in a window, like a beauty spot on the city’s silver face. It was a clear night, even without Lilian’s keen eyes, and in the distance, beyond the city walls she once or twice thought she caught the glimmer of moonlight on water. This world felt separate from the other. The world of daylight with its boring jobs, frustrating crowds and meddlesome reminders of past mistakes. That world felt alien and strange when she recalled it. But this one, this rooftop playground lit by shimmering moonbeams, this was where she felt at home in Freedos. Lilian jumped over an alley gap and felt the thrill of danger spike in her heart. The jump was a big one and she had had to take a long run up but somehow she cleared it with ease.
The journey from there to Mr Attorcop’s attic was quite straightforward. Lilian's room was uphill and west from the attic so she approached the building from the back. Mr Attorcop’s building was a little taller than the houses on either side of it and it was not separated by alleyways. Lilian elected to climb up the back to the roof as opposed to finding a vantage point like she had done before. This meant digging her fingers and nails into small cracks in the brickwork, exploring the surfaces and reaching for the smallest ledge or grip. The wall was sheer but somehow Lilian knew that she could climb it. Besides, this approach on the building meant she could avoid the larger windows overlooking the street.
She began the ascent.
Slowly at first but gaining speed as she grew in confidence. She found her fingers slipped easily into cracks in the brickwork and gripped as hard as a vice. She avoided passing directly over any windows, in case any curtains were open. She did pause before reaching the actual roof, just to listen closely if there was any movement in the attic space. She had been half listening all the way up, but was making this final check just to be safe. When nothing out of the ordinary stood out, she gripped the lip of the wall and pulled herself up onto the roof. The surface was made of tin, like many of the other rooftops in Ziedmont, and Lilian had to grip the angled top where the two halves met at the peak tightly in order to avoid sliding down one side. This became tiresome after a while so she instead decided to straddle the roof and sit with her legs dangling either side. It was not a comfortable seat, but she could at least focus her attention more easily on what was happening in the flat and down on street level. Lilian shut her eyes and dropped her attention down beneath the ceiling, past the layers of tin, wood and straw and into the attic apartment. Being this close illuminated certain details she had missed from street level. She could smell stale bread inside a desk drawer. She could hear the bubbling of some unknown liquid slowly cooking over a woodfire stove. She even found the imposter breathing deeply and rhythmically, asleep on cotton filled cushions. She then examined a hollow space in the south wall that seemed to be filled with little objects stacked on top of each other. Lilian had to really focus to understand what was hidden there so when a knock at the front door boomed through the house she had to grip the roof tightly or risk falling off it from the shock. In her focused exploration of the apartment she had ignored the activity on street level but now she could smell the sweat and anger of a man standing by the front door. It took a quick glance over the roof's lip to see that it was Genaro. He had come.
He was alone which was foolish but very much in character for the selfless noble turned people’s champion. Perhaps he hadn’t quite got all of the Nightshade out of his system and had some residual strength, or perhaps he was just an idiot. Lilian could see his long hair and stubbled chin, she also noticed that one of the big windows overlooking the street was open. Lilian closed her eyes once more and found the imposter's heartbeat, it was quick and fearful. The knock had woken him and he was walking towards the staircase. He paused and held his breath, presumably questioning himself as to whether there had been a knock at all. But then came a second, louder hammering of the front door and he was jolted into action. He muttered something under his breath but Lilian only caught the end of it.
“Foolish beggar’s going to wake the whole building.” By the time he’d reached street level, Lilian had tuned her focus so that she could hear their conversation as easily as if she was standing next to them. A latch was slid and the door clicked open.
“What is it?” The imposter spat.
“Are you Attorcop?” Genaro’s voice replied.
“Yes.” Lilian winced at the lie.
“My name is…”
“I know who you are.” The imposter interrupted Genaro, “I heard all about what happened yesterday too.”
“Then you know what I want.” Genaro spoke with calm confidence, unnerved by the recognition.
“Listen, it’s late and I’m busy, come back tomorrow and we can talk.” This was it. This was when punches would start flying and Lilian would finally see justice. She waited for Genaro to shove past him, or to kick the door down and clean the place out. She waited for a slap, or a punch or a kick. Lilian waited with baited breath. Lilian waited and waited. But nothing happened. Finally she heard Genaro say something in a low and pitiful voice.
“Fine.” He said, followed by, “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I shall return in the morning.” And with that, Genaro walked away. Lilian couldn’t understand. Where were the fireworks she had seen in him the day before? Where was his passion and anger? Lilian opened her eyes and looked over the edge of the roof and caught a glimpse of Genaro walking away dejected as if he’d just been turned down for a romantic date. Lilian began to feel her own anger and passions boil and bubble inside her. Her champion had failed, too weak from speaking strong words all day. But this night was not over, Lilian was here now and the window was open. She had the opportunity to finally put an end to this man’s corruption and lies. He was still at the bottom of the stairs so Lilian leant over the edge of the roof and gripped the window. She sensed where to put her hands, testing for weaknesses in the frame or glass. She found it strong enough to support her weight and so Lilian swung herself down and into the attic apartment. She looked around quickly to find anything of value that she could either swipe or break. She considered surprising the imposter and attacking him when he walked through the door, but she remembered what lay beneath the floorboards and thought better of it. She elected to hit him where it would hurt most. His business.
Lilian quickly tiptoed across the carpeted floor. She was heading for the south wall, she knew which panel was false, she knew there would be something precious behind it, she just had to figure out how to open it. She stepped over piles of discarded cloth, stained and stinking of chemicals, moved round behind a large wooden table and knelt down beside the fake panel. She explored the edges with her fingers, praying that she could open it before the imposter returned. She could hear footsteps coming slowly up the circling staircase. Lilian began desperately prodding, sliding and pushing the panel in every way she could think of. It was not a large section of wall, only coming up to her knee, but still it managed to evade her efforts. The panel did move if she slid it but she couldn’t work out the correct sequence of directions. She had hoped a button or a simple shove would do the trick but she was having no such luck.
The sound of footsteps was getting ever closer amplified by Lilian’s heightened hearing. She glanced back and realised she would only just have enough time to reach the window and climb back out before the imposter was back inside. Muttering a curse under her breath Lilian stood up and started rushing for the window. She had her hearing focused on the steps, her eyes focused on the window and the rest of her senses navigating the strange and dirty terrain in the apartment, so naturally she missed the rusty nail that protruded from the large table. So as Lilian went around it, her shirt got caught, fixing her in place. Her head whipped round to find the problem as panic started to set in. Lilian scrambled with the material but found the nail had ripped a small hole and the shirt had managed to spin and rip the material around it. She briefly considered yanking it and ripping the shirt but somehow her fingers found the solution and she was able to loop it round and over the nail. Her eyes went straight to the window as the footsteps were approaching the attic door. Lilian felt her stomach drop with the terrible realisation that she would not have enough time to make it to the window before the imposter opened the door. She looked around for a hiding place, but there was none. The handle of the door was being turned. Lilian held her breath and knelt down beside the pile of old rags she had passed on her way over from the window. It was in direct view of the door and not tall enough to hide behind. Lilian accepted her fate and tensed her body as she watched the door open.
The imposter stepped inside. Lilian readied herself for a fight. But the fight never came. The imposter looked around the flat, turned and shut the door behind him. He then went over to the window to close it before walking up the few steps to the raised section of the space. Lilian stared at him in fear and amazement. He must have looked straight at her several times. He even had to walk within a few feet of her to get to the window and yet he said and did nothing. When he was out of site at the other end of the large attic, Lilian finally let out a small breath. What was happening? How had he not seen her? That was when Lilian looked at her hands, only to find that they weren’t her hands anymore. They were pale and grey, they had taken on the colour and texture of the discarded rags all around her. She looked at her legs and body, they had transformed in a similar way. Lilian let out a long sigh and realised that she was invisible.
Benlunar - Episode 25
Lilian confronts her fears and witnesses and dangerous display of violence.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
Katherine Brown was a patient woman. In her line of work, she had to be. Being the guardian to three spoilt noble children meant that she had to be very familiar with the word, ‘no’. Katherine had been known to utter nothing but that single word for over an hour. That was a trip to Orlando’s Toy Shop she would never forget. She had always been a caring person, and she loved the little dears really, but it was this love and compassion that made patience come so easy to her. We must be patient with the ones we love, and yes, sometimes Katherine’s patience was confused with stubbornness, but even this could be seen as a caring quality, when used in the right ways. The arrival of Lilian Lausanne in Katherine’s life was a welcome one. Her fondness of caring for others, often above herself, meant that Katherine could provide Lilian with the basic necessities for survival as well as the support she so clearly needed. She expected little in return, finding Lilian to be a charming and fascinating friend, it helped that William liked her too as she trusted his judgement unconditionally. But Katherine’s patience was not unlimited. Even the most generous of wells will eventually run dry. Katherine could sense her reserves of patience waning at that very moment. She was in William’s house, it was getting dark and she seemed to have been having the same conversation with Lilian again and again for the past two hours. It was like she was stuck in some horrible loop, a temporal prison orchestrated by some vengeful wizard. The conversation went something like this:
Lilian would say she was going to ‘do something’ about that man pretending to be her friend Mr Attorcop. Then Katherine or William would tell her that it was too dangerous and that she should leave him alone and try and get on with her life. Lilian would then point to some present circumstance as if to suggest she had no life to be getting on with, this point was sometimes replaced by a plea to their sense of greater good. On more than one occasion Lilian accused Katherine and William of being cowards and shying away from danger. It was these instances that tested Katherine’s patience the most. Katherine would meet the point with another plea for understanding, trying desperately to make this girl see reason. If she tried to hurt or disrupt this strange man or his plans, she might get caught and hurt herself, imprisoned by the Weardian or worst of all, killed. Lilian would think on this for a second and show genuine signs of easing up and forgetting the whole thing before someone mentioned Mr Attorcop again and she would go back to swearing to ‘do something’ about his imposter. At this point the cycle would start over again and Katherine would feel like chewing on a plate. It wasn’t until the sixth or seventh cycle, Katherine had lost track, that something happened to break it.
“Lilian, I know you’re angry.” Katherine knelt beside her new friend, taking her hand in hers and trying to appeal to her sense of self preservation, “But this path you’re going down, I see it ending in you getting yourself hurt and I can’t stand by and let that happen.” There was a long pause, Katherine could see Lilian’s eyes flushing red with salty tears. Perhaps she was finally getting through to her?
“I care too much about you and you’ve only just got here and Freedos can be a really wonderful place if you give it a chance.” Katherine looked back at William who was nodding his head in agreement. Lilian rolled her eyes and finally said something,
“How great can it be if the Weirdmen are involved in such a horrible thing? We saw them Katherine, they were giving him bottles of the stuff, or the ingredients to make it at the very least. And he’s tarnishing my friend’s reputation, he’s selling people Nightshade and we have a chance to deal with him and you’re just sitting in a kitchen feeding each other pie.” Lilian gestured to the pie they had indeed eaten after coming home from the fair. She’d never seen a pie look so guilty. Katherine breathed in deeply and buried her face in her hands. She was sending the bucket down into her well of patience and it was coming up empty.
“Fine. Fine! Let’s say we support you, here, we give you everything you need for your plan. What, a a… knife maybe? A magic key that picks locks and noses at the same time. What then? What do you do Lilian? Kill him? We’ve already established that you can’t tell the Weardian as they seem to be involved as well, so what? Please. I’m genuinely curious as to what difference a thirteen year-old child can make!”
“At least I’m trying to make a difference!” Lilian was standing up now, Fritha did not seem to be enjoying the raised voices and so she chimed in with some jangling grunts, not making the situation any less tense.
“Fine. Good job. Well done for trying.” Katherine was getting angry, “I applaud your efforts, now will you please see reason and know that trying or not trying will amount to exactly the same thing, only one of those options doesn’t get you killed or thrown in the tower.”
“I can take care of myself.” said Lilian in quick defence.
“Oh clearly, is that why I found you half starved in a market or were you just waiting for your butler to bring you back a turkey leg?”
“I didn’t ask for your help.” Lilian felt a tear rolling off her face, she was annoyingly reminded of a lot of conversations she’d had with Mr Attorcop, this only made her feel worse.
“That’s right, you didn’t, but you were happy to accept it and I was happy to give it, I just, I don’t want you to throw everything away by running into the clutches of a clearly dangerous individual.” Lilian clenched her fists, she could feel her untrimmed nails digging into her palms. She wasn’t sure why she said the next phrase, she was just so sick of people telling her what to do, lowering her voice to a cold calmness, she looked at Katherine and said,
“You’re not my mother.” There was a silence, Katherine narrowed her eyes.
“You’re right about that. Because no child of mine would ever be so stupid.”
Lilian was crying now. She missed her mother, she missed her home, she missed Mr Attorcop and she blamed herself for running from all of them. And now she had made new friends and she was about to run from them as well. She looked at the door, she wanted to storm out, cool down and then come back just like she would have done back home. But she knew that if she stormed out now she would not be welcomed back here so quickly. Katherine was not her mother, and she did not owe her anything. For her part, Katherine was regretting what she’d just said, but still felt like Lilian needed to hear it. She WAS being stupid and she was better than that. Her patience had betrayed her, but at the end of the day, speaking her mind in anger had achieved the same thing. Katherine sensed Lilian’s desire to leave, she saw her glancing at the bag, at Fritha and at the door. But Katherine wasn’t going to let that happen. She lowered her voice, now that the dust had settled a little from being kicked up by the storm.
“Lilian, do you think you would be doing all this if Mr Attorcop was here?” Lilian wiped her cheek and spluttered a derisive laugh.
“If Mr Attorcop was here,” she said, “That stupid man would already be on the street and the whole of the Weardian would be dismantled and put in prison.” Katherine considered this.
“And you’d both be able to get on with your work.” Lilian nodded. “Well I understand that you want to punish this imposter, but doing that won’t bring Mr Attorcop back. You know that right?” Lilian had known it. But she had never admitted it to herself. She hadn’t even really married the two worlds together, until now. What would her life look like if the imposter was dealt with? Would it really be that much different to what it was now? And if so, why not just get on with things without risking her life to punish him? Lilian sat back down, slowly. Her eyes fell onto a painting, hanging on the kitchen side wall. It depicted two donkeys tied to one rope, both were attempting to bite a carrot on either side of the field. For the first time that evening, Lilian smiled. There she was, she thought, being an ass. Katherine and William followed her gaze and found the reason for her sudden smile.
“Is that you and me?” she said. Lilian turned to her and shook her head.
“No. It’s all me. I’m sorry Katherine. I’m just… I’m angry.”
“And…” proffered Katherine.
“And stupid.”
“No.” Katherine corrected her, “Scared. You’re scared Lilian and that’s okay. I’m scared all the time.” Lilian looked back at her confused.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” Katherine took a deep breath, picturing herself at Lilian’s age. “I’m scared. We all are. I’m scared you or someone else I care about is going to get hurt. I’m scared William is going to get hurt, or sick. I’m scared when I walk down an empty street at night, I’m scared at work. I’m scared one of the children I work with will fall and hurt themselves, or worse, get kidnapped. I’m… I’m an adult. And part of growing up means realising that there are things you have no control over. No matter what I do, bad things are going to happen. And that’s scary. I just try to do my best for the people I love and take care of myself because I know they love me.”
Lilian breathed a long sigh. “Being a grown up sounds awful.” Katherine and William laughed, Lilian was glad to hear the sound.
“It’s not.” It was William who spoke, Lilian almost jumped as he’d been quiet for quite a long time. He was looking at Katherine as he said it, Lilian saw the couple share a shy, knowing smile.
“So what, I’m just supposed to be scared now?” Lilian threw her hands up in frustration.
“No, you’ll experience fear of course, my point is, everybody does. And everyone has their own way of dealing with fears. But if you don’t learn to deal with them then your fears can quickly change into anger. I think you’re experiencing that now. You’re feeling powerless and that’s scary. You’re like a mouse that Fritha is chasing. You’re back is up against a wall and this big face is coming right for you.” Katherine playfully shook Fritha by the cheeks. Fritha tried to lick her nose. “You’ve got nowhere to run and you’re terrified so you get angry and you fight! The only difference here is that there is nothing to fight. Sometimes the mouse gets away, other times…” She lifted Fritha’s cheek to reveal her jagged, pointed teeth. It was probably a more morbid image than Katherine had intended, few people realised what kind of teeth Fritha had beneath her dopey face. Fritha rustled through sharp orange and lime green shades before wriggling out of Katherine’s grip.
“You want my advice?” Lilian nodded, “Know that it’s alright to be scared. Pinpoint your fears and look at them, speak them out loud. Shining a light on a demon can often scare it away.”
All this talk of fear had Lilian cycling through her memories. Suddenly that word flared up a memory she would have rather avoided. Demon. She’d said. Lilian saw a flicker of it’s face. She opened her eyes so as to not have it flash in the darkness. The demon. The thing that had taken him. It was terrifying enough without the real root of her fears. Not the demon itself, but what the demon had done with Mr Attorcop. She finally spoke its name.
“I’m scared that Mr Attorcop is dead.” Katherine put her hand on Lilian's knee.
“I know my love.” Lilian’s head was all the way in that fear now. Living the emotional reality of what that really meant. All she could do was sit there and experience all of it in all its grimness. Fritha thankfully pulled her out of her terrible reverie by placing her chin on Lilian’s lap. Lilian watched as she tilted her head back slightly and let out a low and haunting chime. Lilian recognised it as a specific tone she had heard before. She’d come to think of it as Fritha’s warning gong. She had first heard it in the alley in Hundsberg. She assumed it was something she did when she was about to attack. But Fritha wasn’t attacking anyone now.
“That’s a beautiful sound.” Katherine remarked. “What does it mean?”
“It means fear.” replied Lilian. Only just realising that herself, “She does it when she knows people are scared. In Hunds… In this town we went to, they called her a fearhound. I think she knows when people are afraid.”
For the next few days Lilian dipped her toe into Freedos society. She wanted to work and pay William and Katherine back for all their kindness. Lilian would wander the many streets and occasionally ask at an inn or shop if they needed an extra pair of hands. The thoughts of never seeing Mr Attorcop again never truly left her mind, but despite them she found herself enjoying her exploration of the city. She knew to avoid the Weardian whenever she saw them, often going out of her way quite considerably to avoid walking past them. She didn’t mind though, it gave her an excuse to explore new side streets and find hidden gems. There was the bookshop that only sold stories about animals. There was a fountain shaped liked a great sea creature. There was a set of tall houses painted to look like the blue sky. She missed the familiarity and friendliness of Benlunar, but she was beginning to understand why someone might come to live in the city. Not to say that it didn’t have it’s bad points. Everywhere she went Lilian would see evidence of poverty. Or rather, she would see evidence of the vast gulfs between the rich and poor. She was always overhearing stories of peasants who had become nobles by selling ideas or inventions or land but she never seemed to meet any of these people. That might have been due to the fact that the noble neighbourhoods near the top of the hill were mostly hidden behind tall walls and sharp gates and very rude guards. She did occasionally see very well dressed men and women visit the various markets in the lower regions of the city, but she never really dared to talk to any of them. They were always in very tight groups and were usually laughing at some shared joke that Lilian either couldn’t hear or didn’t understand. Whenever they found the time, Katherine would sit with her and they would practise sums and words. She missed studying with Mr Attorcop but found that his teachings had put her a few terms ahead of her contemporaries. Katherine was particularly impressed with her knowledge of history. Occasionally she would walk near Mr Attorcop’s house but she never lingered and even tried to avoid looking at the door. The sense of injustice still burned in her belly, but what could she do?
It wasn’t until the start of the second week that Lilian found a job. It was at a taxidermists shop. She had gone in to get a better look at the giant stuffed bird on display in the window. She chatted with the owner, Mr Twitchett about how she’d seen a similar sized bird in her hometown once. They seemed to get on well and Lilian noticed that a lot of the animals and shelves were very dusty. After offering to clean them Mr Twitchett asked if she was able to do more for him as he needed someone to look after deliveries and do odd jobs so that he could focus more on actually completing orders. The pair shook hands and Lilian left the shop with a smile on her face. With her first set of wages she bought a side of boar from the butcher and cooked William and Katherine a big meal as thanks for their generosity. By the end of the second week Lilian was getting used to a new lifestyle. She had a meeting with a landlady to talk about a room, Mr Twitchett’s wages couldn’t afford her a nice house like William’s, but she was tired of relying on his hospitality.
She was currently on her way to the post office to mail a letter to her parents. She’d managed to send a few notes back with travellers on the journey but she’d prefer it if her mum and dad had an address that they could write back to. Lilian had some time before picking up a delivery so she took the opportunity to head to Laga quarter. She queued, paid the postmaster (after a brief explanation as to where exactly Benlunar was) and walked out into a cloudy day. Sun was still visible at times and Lilian tried walking from pocket to pocket of sunshine while walking towards Checkad square. The streets were dusty from midsummer heat and all the cobbles and buildings looked like they were painted sandy brown. Most people’s clothes, including her own, carried patches of the brown dirt, which, when even slightly wet, would cake and crumble into the fabrics. Only nobles stood out in this picture. Their garish colours would herald their arrival through the sandy palatted city. Lilian had heard that it was the dry dust coming in from the fields with the high winds. She rather liked it. At times she pictured herself in the city of Zandt, a lone desert wanderer having finally reached the glittering city. She was imagining this now, feeling the crunch of the dust under her feet and taking in the monochrome city. There were no nobles in sight, so Lilian was surprised to see a flash of purple inserted in the pale boulevard. Someone up ahead had something in his hand. It was the only spot of colour in view so it stuck out like a bright purple pimple. Something in the back of Lilian’s mind rang alarm bells for some reason and she snapped out of her daydream to realise she was in the midst of a rather spirited crowd. The atmosphere was fraught with tension, Lilian was shocked not to have noticed it sooner. A circle was gathering around the man with the purple in his hand. What is that? Thought Lilian. She approached the circle, feeling that there was something familiar there. When she reached the group, she could hear raised voices from its centre but had to strain on the tips of her toes to see any details. Five men were apart, enclosing on another. He was shouting a warning, a threat of some sort. He was holding a bottle. A bottle of purple stuff. It took her far longer than it should have, but Lilian’s brain suddenly lurched into gear. This man was threatening to drink Nightshade. She thought about getting all these people off the street, she could shout a warning but something kept her. Looking back, she realised it was the same thing that everyone in the crowd shared at that moment. That was why they stayed. Not because they didn’t know its effects, but because they had never seen them in action. Lilian felt a little embarrassed to find herself admitting that she would quite like to see what happened if indeed he did decide to drink it. If he didn’t drink it the crowd were all safe, and if he did then they got a good story out of it. For all the onlookers it was a strange and deliberate choice to remain close by. And so Lilian stayed, she even crept between two men wearing thin scarfs across their faces to get a better look. A few people in the crowd were wearing similar coverings, to prevent the dust from settling in their mouths and noses. No one was cheering or even saying much. A few people would occasionally mutter the words ‘easy’ or ‘alright now’ at the panicking man.
For his part, he was shouting at the five men in front of him, seemingly unconcerned about the crowd. He was wearing grey blue jodhpurs and a white shirt. Well, at least it had been white before the dust and sweat had begun dying it brown. He was unshaven and unkempt, his eyes looked especially tired. Lilian emerged into the inner circle in time to hear him shout,
“You idiots need to start turning around and heading back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I’ve got three more bottles and my father lived a looong life.” One of the other men, a bald man with a ring in his ear replied.
“This ain’t the place for it Genaro, there’s five of us and we only want a word.”
“I know what you want you damned liar.” The man named Genaro, answered back. Lilian was watching every detail intently. She wanted to see everything, in case she needed to remember it later.
“Awright then. You got us. We’re here from Bried. Give us what you owe and we’ll be on our way. We can take that as payment if you like.” The big man pointed to the bottle of Nightshade and smiled. Lilian was aware that at the mention of the name ‘Bried’, several members of the crowd broke away and went about their business. Rather unnervingly, it had caused Genaro to laugh. He kept snickering for a good while before muttering something, half to his counterpart, half to himself. Lilian had to quickly slip into focus to catch it.
“This already is for Bried you great oaf.” And with that he flicked his thumb unstopping the bottle and brought the glass to his mouth. Lilian watched him take a big gulp of the purple concoction, his eyes winced as he tasted it. Once he’d started drinking half the group scattered. Lilian felt safe at this distance but she still had no idea what to expect. Lilian would reflect later that had she and the rest of them known the effects of Nightshade they probably would have scattered as well.
Lilian watched the man bend over as if something had just hit him in the stomach. The action was so quick he dropped the bottle and the rest of the Nightshade spilled over the cobbles, staining the dust. Lilian heard the man, Genaro, let out a guttural howl, it was a sad and pained sound yet one that managed to send a trickle of fear down Lilian’s back. She became very aware of where she was standing and felt the sudden need to put something between her and Genaro. Glancing around she noticed a cart a few feet behind her, covered to protect its wears from the dust. She rushed over to it and crouched behind it, turning just in time to watch the group of thugs back away from him. The man with the earring turned his large head towards one of his friends, a smaller man with a tight set jaw.
“Take him out.” He only raised his voice a small amount, probably not wanting to startle or inform Genaro of his plan. The smaller man looped a cord off his neck and shoulder and reached round behind him for a crossbow. Lilian had only ever seen one other crossbow in her life and she was sure that having them within the city walls was against the law. This man clearly didn’t care about being spotted by the Weardian, who were suspiciously nowhere to be seen. Lilian heard the click of the wire being set into place. A moment later there was a loud crack and the bolt was flying through the air. Lilian held her breath and braced for impact. But none came. A miss. The bolt must have flown wide. Had Lilian shut her eyes? She could have sworn the aim was true. Genaro was still writhing hunched over the floor. Lilian wondered if he had drunk a fake or was having a bad reaction. It wouldn’t matter as seconds later the crossbow had been loaded again and the man was taking aim. This time, Lilian made sure to watch Genaro and she was glad she did. When the bolt loosed, if she had been watching its journey she might have missed the slightest shift in Genaro’s body. His painful convulsions were working in his favour as the bolt flew past him once again, missing so tightly that it practically grazed his shoulder. Lilian wondered if he might have done it on purpose. The larger man with the earring was getting impatient. He walked over to the man with the crossbow and snatched it off him muttering something that Lilian didn’t quite catch. She watched as he loaded it, took aim and loosed.
By now Genero was standing up straight, looking directly at his attacker. Lilian caught a glimpse of his eyes, they seemed darker than before and Lilian saw a flash purple liquid eeking out from his left tear duct. He was smiling a strange and beastly grin. It was like a wolf had just dug a hole to find five terrified marmots. When the man with the earring loosed the bolt, Lilian saw a flash of movement and saw it scatter away on the floor. A few weeks later Lilian would overhear someone tell the story that he caught it, but she knew that Genaro had batted it to the side like a cat swatting at a fly. He moved with unnatural speed. In an instant Genaro was beside the big man, he whacked the crossbow straight down using both arms and Lilian saw it plummet out of the man’s hands and smash into splinters on the flagstones. The rest of the men were already pulling knives out from hidden pockets and running at Genaro. The first slashed down, the second across but Genaro danced back avoiding every strike. He wasn’t speaking but Lilian could hear his heavy breathing. With each new strike he would duck or dodge. Lilian began to worry as they seemed to be pushing him back towards her. One of the mob tried to grab Genaro’s hand as they crossed the road. Genaro hit it with his free hand with a sickening slap crack and Lilian watched the attacker grip his wrist and fall back, tears already in his eyes. Occasionally one of the men would say something, trying vainly to appeal to this creature’s sense of reason. That’s all Lilian could see now, a creature, a beast of a man. Genaro even stood like an animal, hunched low with arms out wide. Batting away swipes and blows came easy to him, Lilian thought he might even be toying with the men. But then, through some strange law of pure probability, a knife got through. Lilian just spied a line of red appear along Genaro’s right arm. Genaro was looking at it, examining the damage and assessing it with the cold indifference one might show when looking at a broken wheel of a wagon. Suddenly Genaro turned and took two or three long strides towards the market cart Lilian was hiding behind. Lilian tried to back away and only just managed to shuffle back a few steps on the dusty floor before the whole stall lifted off the ground and shot towards the remaining group of men. Lilian had watched the whole thing, but her mind wasn’t ready to put the reality together. Had Genaro really just thrown that entire stall? Lilian was snapped back to the moment by the sound of it crashing down. It was fast enough to catch two of them off guard, they disappeared behind its bulk without a sound. The stall took them with it as it hit the floor. It must have been a potter’s stall because Lilian saw a thousand shards of clay burst from beneath it as it fell. The legs buckled and snapped, the wooden front wall broke clean in two and the men behind it were no longer heard from. It was at this point that the group decided that this was probably too much trouble to be worth the hassle so they turned on their heels and ran. This was lucky for Liliian as the fight was moving away, but it was unlucky for them because Genaro decided to give chase.
Sometime later, Lilian calmed down and decided to get back to work. She had considered heading back to William’s but realised that she wasn’t hurt and so saw no reason not to continue on with her day. She did of course alter her direction if she ever heard screams or crashes coming from the network of city streets. The nature of the encounter had not quite sunk in, but by the time she reached the taxidermist’s shop her legs were feeling weak and she had a cold headache. Mr Twitchett bought her a chair to sit on after she practically stumbled in. She thanked him and explained what she had just seen.
“My goodness you poor thing.” Mr Twitchett had a funny way of talking that usually made Lilian smile, but currently she was too distracted to think about it.
“Can I get you something? A tea perhaps?” Lilian briefly wondered why everyone in the city loved tea so much, but she quickly admitted that a tea did sound nice. Mr Twitchett pottered into the back where he had a small stove and Lilian was left alone. She breathed deeply, trying to simultaneously forget and remember everything about what had just happened. She turned to look out of the window into the street, searching for a distraction. At first she enjoyed imagining the stories of all the people that walked past the window, but then something changed in the picture and Lilian almost fell off her chair.
Through the feathers and faces of all the animals on display in the window Lilian could see a man. He was stumbling round the corner from a side street, propping himself up on the wall. With the identical shirt and trousers on she realised that it must be Genaro. He seemed to be heading straight for the taxidermist which put Lilian’s heart in her throat. She prayed to some forgotten God on the wall of the Stave Church that he would turn around, or at least head in a different direction. But after several shaky steps he had his hand on the handle of the shop door and was twisting it to get inside. Genaro took one step into Mr Twitchett’s shop, looked around with dark, purple stained eyes and then collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Benlunar - Episode 24
Lilian tries gloaming for the first time since arriving in Freedos.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
Lilian took a deep breath. Her ribs still hurt from lying down on the tiles earlier that day. She was sitting on the carpeted floor of Williams living room, but even these soft surroundings could not dampen her aches and pains. She took another breath and closed her eyes. She smelt a sweet, acrid odour that she ashamedly realised was coming off her own body. She had not bathed in several days and the day's exercises combined with the midsummer heat made her wonder at how William could keep an unwrinkled nose in her presence. She reminded herself to bathe the next morning and then tried to clear her head and focus on her breath. Fritha was sitting on the settee above her and Lilian occasionally felt a waft of breath move her hair as Fritha exhaled. It had been quite a while since Lilian had practiced her attention exercise and even longer since she had tried gloaming again. She felt unsure and unsafe when attempting something new without Mr Attorcop around. But she reminded herself again that Mr Attorcop might not be back with her for quite some time, and that his absence was no excuse to stop practising. She remembered what he said about not overreaching and had decided to try gloaming again. Lilian took another deep breath but several annoying thoughts kept intruding on her tranquility. The first was what William had said about Nightshade.
“It’s a horrible substance.” He’d said, “As dangerous as it is addictive. It’s been on the streets of Freedos for a few months now but no one knows where it’s coming from. The man you saw was right to hide it, if the Weardian were to catch him with some he would have been tortured for the name of his supplier.”
“What does it do?” Lilian remembered asking, “Is it like alcohol?” Lilian had tried some wine with her parents once and didn’t much care for the taste. She’d also seen what happened to folk who drank too much from her evenings in the Fox & Octopus. William had laughed at her comment,
“Ha… Not at all. I’ve never had any myself, nor do I care to try some, but they say…” He paused, weighing his words before speaking them, “They say it steals time from the end of your life.” Lilian had shot him a confused look, he continued. “Imagine you’re going to live to 100 years old. Well, one mouthful of nightshade will take a year off that total and give it to you today. That means you’ll only end up living for 99 years in total. But for a few hours…” He’d trailed off here, shaking his head and gazing into the middle distance. Lilian’s head had been full of questions, but she waited and let William find the words.
“I saw someone once who had taken it. It floods your eyes with purple gunk and the veins on his face were raised and almost glowed. It was pretty scary actually. This man walked into an inn and challenged this fellow to a fight. He’d cheated him out of some money or something, I don’t know. Anyway I watched a bit of the fight before running out of there and… Lilian the things I saw him do. He picked up an oak table, bigger than this one, with one hand and threw it like it was a pebble. You see it takes all that strength and power you’d have in that year and gives it to you all at once for an hour. And seeing as a lot of people die when they’re old and weak the more you take, the stronger you get. And it’s not just about strength. This guy said he could hear whispers from down the street, and he moved like he knew what was going to happen. He knew where to dodge, where to duck he was… terrifying.” Lilian felt herself becoming scared, surely no one could handle such power responsibly. William had then gone on to explain that once someone drank nightshade, they weren’t able to stop. Normal life was said to become painful and unbearable afterwards. And so the drinker would keep drinking, more and more until they’d taken so much time from the end of their life, that they only had hours to go until it was over.
“And then they die.” Said William, “And it’s happening more and more all over the city. No one knows who’s making it, and the Weardian are offering substantial rewards for information.”
Lilian took another deep breath, desperately trying to get the image of all the men and women drinking themselves to an early grave out of her head. She was out of practise, she was getting annoyed with herself and was about to give up and go to sleep when she opened her eyes, looked out of the window, and saw the moon. It was a half moon. Bright as a smile. Once again Lilian found solace in its calm, cool light. She remembered the night she had seen it over Benlunar’s peak and it had dripped its strange substance into the rivers and pools on the mountain. She glanced at her pack and considered extracting the vial of essence. No. She thought. I have to do this myself. And so, with renewed vigour she shut her eyes and went back to focusing on her breath. For some reason, her mother’s parting words entered her mind: “When the winds and storms rage, the mountain remains still. Wherever you go, whatever happens, remember to hold the mountain in your heart, and the storm can never hurt you.” She took a deep breath and became the mountain, still and strong. A few minutes went by and Lilian was finally able to slip into hyper focus.
She was almost shocked out of it instantly as even in this late hour the city was erupting with noise. There was a row happening 3 doors down, a party two streets across, someone was throwing stones at glass bottles and that was just the human activity. The patter and squeaks of a thousand rats bombarded Lilian’s senses. Her normally dark focus space was alive with a million silver lights, each one representing some small sound in and around the busy streets of the city. It was hard for Lilian to focus at first amidst this cavalcade of cacophonic clutter. But slowly she managed to find her place amongst all of it and she was able to tune out the useless noises and focus on her immediate surroundings. She found Fritha’s slow and steady breaths, next to her own heart beat which was glowing gold. It was just like that night on the stoney beach. Lilian smiled when she saw the light. It was just as warm and beautiful as she remembered. She considered trying to fill a piece of dust or grit with her light, just as she had done that night on the beach. Only now she would be sure to take it slowly and not force any piece of her surroundings to take on this aspect of herself. She found a thread of the carpet she was sitting on. This particular thread was brushing against her left ankle. Lilian didn’t choose it for any special reason, it was much the same as the others, standing upright like a tree in a forest. Lilian examined it, explored it and slowly tried to convince it to take on the golden glow. It didn’t take as long as the grain of sand on the beach had done and within just a few minutes the strand of carpet was shining like a lighthouse, a bright beacon amongst its dull brothers and sisters. This made it relatively easy for Lilian to convince them to take on the light as well, who would not want to shine so brightly after all? She was careful not to be too forceful and she had to practise a great deal of patience, but in time other strands were persuaded to shine in like.
Lilian lost track of time but she felt her body growing tired from the constant concentration. She had persuaded a patch of carpet under her foot, roughly the size of a dinner plate, to glow golden like a patch of sunlight reflecting in a puddle. Lilian smiled at its beauty. Her own admiration seemed to influence the ground around her and suddenly more strands of carpet and even splinters of wood underneath became receptive to her golden light. Lilian was happy with her practise and decided to call it a night. Before she took the light back however she felt movement behind her. Fritha was stirring in her slumber. An idea appeared in the back of Lilian’s mind, a potentially dangerous one, and yet it appealed to her greatly. Lilian was wondering what would happen if she tried to convince one of Fritha’s hairs to take on her golden glow. She began searching out for one with her attention, but a memory of Mr Attorcop stopped her from continuing. She was recalling what he said about trying gloaming for the first time in a field of flowers, or a town full of people before he squeezed his water skin so tightly it almost popped from the pressure. Well, Lilian wasn’t just in a town, she was in a city and Fritha was a large, living, energetic creature. Lilian thought better of it and went back to trying to slowly bring the golden glow beneath her back into her body. The image of the water skin was still in her mind, and she found that it helped her to visualise it pouring its contents slowly and carefully into a cup. In this instance Lilian’s body was the cup and after all the glow from the ground had been poured back into her she opened her eyes.
She looked about and almost shielded her eyes from the bright light streaming through the window. Was it morning already? She thought. Had she spent the entire night focusing on a small patch of carpet? She slowly opened her eyes and found that the light coming through her window was still that of the moon, only it had become brighter somehow. Lilian’s mind was racing to find an explanation. No, it wasn’t the moon that had become brighter, it was her eyes that could see more clearly. The dark room was lit up like a beach under a cloudless summer sky. She put her hand in front of her face and found that she could see every line and stain as clearly as if it had been under an oil lamp. The colours of the carpet were more vibrant than even during the day, the walls were a deep brown and every crack and crevice in the wood was clearly visible, as if Lilian was looking down on deep valleys from the top of a mountain. She was mesmerized by all the beauty this simple room had to offer. How had she not noticed this before? Had she not been paying attention? Behind the wondrous sights something was bothering her. It was like a roar of wind or water. It reminded her of the caves she had descended through with Mr Attorcop on her way down into the valley from Benlunar. She looked about, trying to find the source of the noise, and her eyes fell on Fritha, asleep on the soft settee. The roaring noise was rising and falling in perfect unison with her chest and Lilian realised that she was hearing her breathing. Fritha herself was looking more dazzling than ever. Her fur seemed to pulse with light and colour. Lilian was drawn to her and had to snap herself out of a reverie after staring at the Feinhound for several minutes. She didn’t know how long this state would last but she wanted to experience different things whilst in it. She walked around the dark city house. At least, in the back of her head she knew it was dark, but to Lilian it may as well have been the middle of the day. She breathed in deeply in the kitchen and could smell the remnants of the roast chicken even though they had eaten the last of it hours ago. Just like when she was in her state of focus, she found that she could stretch her attention out beyond what her senses would normally perceive. She looked at the front door and focused on any sounds that might be coming from the street. No human footsteps, just the occasional patter of rodents or the shuffle of a bird in its rooftop nest. She slid the door’s metal lock up out of its catch. She almost jerked her hand back to cover her ears. She had failed to shift her focus and her automatic motion had made the lock crash so loudly against its metal bracing that it sounded like a firework going off next to her head. This is going to take some getting used to, she thought as she dampened her senses and opened the door.
A wave of sensory stimulus washed over her. The sounds and smells of the city not to mention the sight of the well lit street washed over her like a tidal wave. Lilian smiled and almost burst out laughing. In this state she could smell the people next door, there were two of them, a man and a woman, the woman wore rose perfume and the man had recently been in a stable or around horses. She took a deep breath in through her nose and could smell the alley at the other end of the street. Strangely, in this state, she did not distinguish between good and bad smells. Some fruit or vegetable had rotted and soured in the alley and Lilian consciously registered that normally she would not want to have anything to do with such a smell, but now she explored each and every corner of it. It was some sort of citrus fruit that was off, she could smell the alcohol evaporating off of it. It was a “bad” smell but it held so much information that Lilian didn’t want to leave it alone. But she diverted her attention again, down the street to the main road, a spot where a horse had mucked several days earlier, the sound of a fly buzzing around its remnants, voices behind closed windows, a party four streets away where a fiddler was playing a jig. Lilian heard it. Lilian smelt it. And then she was off.
Shutting the door behind her Lilian leapt into the night. The grey light of the stars and moon illuminated the dirty streets with a shimmering silver beauty. Lilian felt as though she was walking through a dream, but she had no time to dawdle. She picked up the pace and started making her way through the city. She ran when she could, stopping only when she heard feet or voices around the corners she meant to turn. In this state, she was able to avoid detection easily. She wanted to hurry though as she had no idea how long this state would last. At one point, she realised that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. She didn’t mind, she enjoyed the sensation of the cobbles and dust on the soles of her feet. Besides, it was easier to stay quiet this way. She ran down a long road, keeping to the shadows which to her were merely patches of lesser light. She noticed that she was able to run for a long time and when she stopped she was barely out of breath. Her strides felt longer too, as if her legs were launching her further through the air with every step. Her ribs no longer ached from the day’s spying and her head felt clear and sharp. She was in another world. A world that belonged to her. She turned the final corner and arrived at her destination.
Mr Attorcop’s door was across the street from her, illuminated by the moon and Lilian’s new found sight. She stretched her focus up and down the street, trying to sense if anyone was coming. She could hear the clacking of claws on stone, possibly a city fox out looking for scraps, but there was no human activity. A candle burned in a window behind her and two floors up, but its owner was asleep in the chair beside it. A book resting on his chest. Lilian could hear the pages rustle as his body rose and fell. She crossed the street and bent down in front of the door. She didn’t need to scale rooftops, she didn’t need a perfect view inside. In this state, she could explore the house just by being near it. She knelt and put her face close to the keyhole, making sure to stay aware of any changes in the streets around her. She peeked through the keyhole but could only make out several wooden stairs. No surprise there. With the visual sense impaired, Lilian shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. The musty, dust dense air of the staircase filled her nose. She concentrated hard and followed the scents and sounds upwards. The atmosphere was similar all the way up, indicating that there were no other doors going off the stairs bar the one at the top. This door was slightly smaller than its ground level counterpart and Lilian had to consciously slow down her breathing so that she could concentrate enough to find the key hole. This state was very similar to when she practised her focus exercise, only now she could rely on smell just as much as sound. Lilian tested the door, prodding it with every available piece of information until she found that it was slightly ajar. There was a sweaty, human smell coming from within.
Lilian pushed her focus through the crack and found an unclean place. The attic residence was bigger than she had thought it to be from looking through the window, it stretched away into the back of the building, several steps lead up to a raised area. Lilian could hear movement, which helped her get a clearer picture. Every step created little echoes from which she could garner information about the types of surfaces and surroundings. The floor was wood, with several small rugs scattered around it. Someone was moving about, Lilian could hear the occasional clink of glass and metal. She found the smell of cold steel blades in a draw, weapons of some kind. She smelled books, boots and large leather gloves. It was hard to discern particular things because the whole place smelled of chemicals and something familiar. Lilian couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tried to track the familiar smell, leaving the sweaty man she presumed to be the impersonator behind. The smell was coming from… under the floor? Was something hidden there? Yes. Hidden and packed in tight bunches. It reminded Lilian of the farm where she had last seen the real Mr Attorcop. It was like… Manure, yes that was it, manure. But why would someone want manure under their floor? Lilian opened her eyes in shock, snapping her senses back to herself and her immediate surroundings. She could feel a bead of sweat forming on her brow. She had remembered why that smell was so familiar. It was the smell coming from the barricades they had built at the Garrow’s farm. One thought kept repeating itself again and again in her head all the way back to William’s house. It’s rigged. The whole floor is rigged. One spark, that’s all it would take for the entire building to explode.
By the time Lilian got back to the house she was beyond exhausted. Her senses were almost back to normal, the sour smells of the streets were starting to bother her again and she no longer had to keep shifting focus so that the door lock was too loud. When she reached the living room Fritha looked up sleepily from the settee and did a big stretch before tucking her head back down to go back to sleep. Lilian was about to join her when she caught sight of something strange. The light from outside was brightening as dawn approached and the polished glass in one of the picture frames caught her attention. The picture itself was of a naval battle, but that wasn’t what was interesting about it. Lilian had caught sight of her reflection and could have sworn that her eyes seemed different. It was hard to tell because the glass was dusty and not very reflective, but she thought her eyes looked brighter, or maybe even a different colour entirely. A wave of sleep suddenly washed over her and Lilian practically collapsed beside Fritha on the soft furnishings of the settee. She shut her eyes and drifted away into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
“Explosives!?” Katherine shouted the word, almost spilling her tea as she did. William was out at work and Katherine had managed to drop by his house whilst on an errand for the family she worked for. It was mid afternoon and Lilian was still a little groggy from just having woken up. Her body was not used to sleeping through the day, she had woken up around lunchtime and had immediately chastised herself for not walking Fritha sooner. When they had come back from their walk Katherine was there and already pouring a second cup of tea. Lilian had told her a little bit about the events of the night but had been vague in the details.
“Wait, how do you know they were explosives?” Lilian had expected the question, she wanted to tell Katherine the truth, but remembered her own scepticism when it came to magic and she didn’t want Katherine to be mixed up in that world right now.
“A while ago Mr Attorcop had made some to help protect a farm. I remember it stank of manure and chemicals, I couldn’t smell it from the rooftop but last night by the door the smell was really obvious.” It was a half truth, something Lilian could live with. Katherine sat back in her chair and looked distractedly down at the floor. A look of concern fell across her face. Fritha was busy plodding around the house, putting her nose in every nook and cranny she could find. Lilian smiled as she watched her head disappear into a coal scuttle, leaving a happy, wagging tail sticking up in the air.
“Lilian, I don’t think you should go back there.” Lilian’s attention was snapped back to Katherine.
“Why not?” she asked, genuinely surprised by the comment. Katherine’s face was incredulous.
“Why not?? Lilian, that man is clearly dangerous. He’s giving people that horrible Nightshade stuff, he’s packed his place full of explosives…”
“It’s not his place.” Lilian interrupted, her tone coming out a little angrier than she had wanted it to.
“Yes okay, I understand Lilian. I know that you’re angry but this is not something you should be getting mixed up in. We can do the right thing and alert the authorities and they can take care of it.” She stood up and walked over to the hooks by the door where she had hung her rain cloak, it was still wet from the brief shower earlier in the day. As she put her arms through the sleeves she turned back to Lilian.
“I’m sorry Lilian, I know you want justice here but I don’t want you getting into trouble. Just, promise me you won’t go back there today.” The request came as a bit of a shock, but Lilian considered it. She huffed out a big sigh and replied,
“Fine. I won’t go back. But I can handle myself you know?”
“I don’t doubt it.” Katherine smiled, “But for now there is no need to handle yourself or anyone else for that matter.” Lilian’s spirits fell a little. After the experience of the night before, she felt like she was ready to take on Freedos’ seedy underworld single handedly. But her friend was probably right to caution her.
Katherine must have noticed Lilian’s disappointment because she walked over to her and gave her a big hug before saying,
“Listen, tomorrow there’s a fair in Checkad square. I’m taking the children I look after in the morning but how about I meet you there tomorrow afternoon and we can enjoy ourselves a little hm? You look like you could use a little fun. And a bath. You could use a bath.” Lilian rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Yes?” asked Katherine.
“Yes!”
“Yes what?”
“Yes I’ll come to the fair.” Katherine smiled and ruffled Lilian’s hair.
“And you’ll not go near that man’s house?”
“No.”
“And you’ll have a bath?”
“Alright!” shouted Lilian as she playfully pushed Katherine away.
For the rest of the day Lilian kept her various promises to Katherine by staying clear of the imposter’s house and filling the bathtub with water and some soap. One thing she did enjoy about city life was that most houses seemed to have water pumps inside them. William’s took some effort to get going but eventually a trickle of fresh volcanic water sloshed into the pail and Lilian was able to heat it on the stove before emptying it into the large tub in the back room. It took several pails to fill and the water was a little cold when she got in, but after her body had gotten used to it she found herself enjoying the relaxing buoyancy and muffled silence when she submerged her head. It had been a long time since her last bath, a fact which became all too clear when she examined the water around her and found it to be dark grey. A curious Fritha had come to have a closer look and Lilian stroked her chin as she sniffed at the bubbles. And then without any warning, Fritha jumped straight in, splashing water everywhere and causing Lilian to double over with laughter.
Lilian fought the urge to visit the imposter’s house for the rest of the afternoon, but she quickly realised that she was just bored. So she set about finding what food William had around the house and preparing him a meal for when he got back from his work at the printers. She managed to find a head of cabbage, some mustard and some garlic cloves with which she made a thick soup. She was so used to eating road rations that she had almost forgotten how much she loved to cook. Fritha made an excellent kitchen aid as she was always ready to snaffle up any scraps Lilian dropped on the floor, either by accident or on purpose. When William came home he was thankful for the meal and the two talked about Lilian’s experience the night before. William agreed with Katherine, as Lilian might have guessed he would, saying that this imposter was “far too dangerous” for anyone to be getting involved with. After eating the two played cards, Lilian found William to be a much better opponent than Mr Attorcop had ever been. They played 4 ladies, tiles and William even taught Lilian a new game called Catch the Knight which she was not very good at and so did not enjoy playing.
The next day Lilian put on her least dirty set of clothes and went to join Katherine on Checkad square. William knew a lot about Freedos and had explained to her that Checkad Square was named after a woman called Amala Checkad who had led a hunger strike against an oppressive tax on farmers. Apparently most people assumed it was called checkered square because of the black and white tiles that make up the central mosaic and there was speculation that the tiles were put there to purposely confuse people. Regardless of why they were there, when Lilian approached the square the tiles were nowhere to be seen, obscured instead by a tumult of flare and activity. Lilian walked past stands where people were tossing cork balls at glass bottles, she saw a juggler catch a flaming pin with his teeth and there was even a set of cages where people could pay to peek through curtains at exotic animals. Everything was designed with two purposes in mind, grab your attention and separate you from your coin. Lilian loved everything about it. The painted signs above the stalls, the colourful outfits and language of the owners, the smiling crowds and the smell of sugar roasted nuts. She had left Fritha at William’s, not wanting her to draw too much attention in the large crowd and she was thankful that she did lest she be swiped and shoved into a curtained cage like the rest of the curious creatures. Lilian finally found Katherine by a set of swings. Children yelped in delight as they swung past. Katherine was eating something, a plum that had been dipped in buttery sugar syrup, she had a punnet of them and she handed Lilian one with a smile. Lilian bit into it eagerly and almost winced at how sweet it was. She had never tasted anything like it. Katherine stifled a laugh and took Lilian’s arm. She took her to see the sights of the fair, having seen this particular troupe once or twice before, Katherine knew exactly which stalls were worth visiting and which performers worth waiting to see. It was while Lilian was watching Katherine trying to throw some hoops over some deceptively large looking pegs that she noticed the two men in heavy green coats. She had spotted them through the crowd, she couldn’t be sure if they were the men that had stopped her and Katherine in the street, but they were certainly dressed the same. And then, like when hunting for mushrooms, spotting two suddenly revealed more and more. Every which way she looked there were large men in green coats watching the crowds with stern expressions.
“Lots of weirdmen about.” Lilian whispered to Katherine.
“What?” Katherine looked over to where Lilian nodded. It took her a few seconds to realise who she meant. “Oh, Weardian. Yes. I’ve seen them too. Pretty normal I think for such a big crowd. They like to remind people of their presence whenever they can.” Lilian watched her catch eyes with the stall attendant and both of them shared a pained look. The stall holder was even brave enough to roll his eyes. Katherine finished playing and together they continued round the fair. At one point Katherine pointed to a poster, freshly glued to one of the pillars surrounding the square and propping up the fancy town apartments that overlooked it. Lilian approached the poster and read.
CITIZEN’S APPEAL it said, IF ANYONE HAS ANY INFORMATION REGARDING THE SALE OR POSSESSION OF THE ILLEGAL SUBSTANCE KNOWN AS ‘NIGHTSHADE’ PLEASE REPORT TO WEARDIAN CHIEF GARROCK AT THE MUNICIPAL BUILDING IN LAGA QUARTER.
“See,” said Katherine, “It’s dangerous stuff and no good can come of getting mixed up in it.” Lilian read the note again and examined the wax seal at its base. It was imprinted with a set of scales. Something about it made Lilian feel uneasy. Should these people be relying on citizens to rat each other out? Mr Attorcop’s voice came to mind and she imagined how he might react. It either shows a lack of self confidence in their abilities or reveals just what they think of the people they’re sworn to protect. You’ll notice there’s no reward, and no please or thank you. That tells people they’re supposed to be blindly obeying, as if that is the RIGHT thing to do, no questioning, no thanks. Lilian almost smiled when she recalled his manner but quickly suppressed it as she realised that it had been she who had had the thought, not him. She turned to Katherine,
“Where is the municipal building?” Katherine raised a hand and pointed down a large parade road heading south.
“Laga quarter is down there. Courts, embassies, all formal and political and boring. If you want to report what you saw we can go there tomorrow? Is that alright Lilian? Lilian?” But Lilian was not alright. And she was not listening. She was staring intently in the direction that Katherine had pointed. Not to the large statue-lined parade in the distance, but at something in the middle ground. In broad daylight, only slightly obscured from the crowd by a temporary stage, Lilian could see him. The imposter. She was sure of it, sure she would recognize his greasy, weasel face anywhere. She felt anger rise inside her. And look at that, she thought, he’s standing so close to two Weardian officers. She could run over right now and point him out. She more than half considered it but something stopped her.
“Lilian are you feeling alright?” Katherine must have been talking the whole time.
“Sorry,” Lilian replied, “I’m fine, I just… look.” She gestured covertly to where she was looking. Katherine looked past the stage into the dim light behind it. It was positioned near a wall so there was only a narrow passage that most people seemed to be avoiding. Katherine saw who she was referring to.
“Huh! There he is. And he’s with Weardian.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Lilian, “we could go over there and turn him in!” Katherine didn’t seem excited by the idea.
“No Lilian, he’s with Weardian. They’re meeting about something.” And then Lilian saw what she meant, and her naivety popped like a bubble. The man and the two officers were standing near enough to hear each other and Lilian could see the man’s lips moving slightly, despite clearly not being in conversation with anyone. Lilian desperately wanted to know what he was saying, she even considered closing her eyes and trying to focus, but there was too much noise in the square, it would have been like staring into the sun. Instead she whispered to Katherine.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
“Damned if I know. Hold on, he’s leaving.” Lilian was tracking him at once and even took a step forward, but Katherine put out her hand and held her back.
“What’s that he’s got with him?” Lilian, didn’t understand, why did that matter? She looked closer and noticed that he was carrying something. A box? no, a satchel.
“Did he have that when he arrived?” said Katherine, Lilian thought back but couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t know.”
“Think, Lilian, was he wearing a bag?” The pressure made Lilian more confused, she couldn’t remember.
“I don’t think so, I don’t think he had a bag. In fact, no, I’m pretty sure when I first looked he didn’t.”
“Gods around us.” Katherine swore under her breath.
“What? What is it? What does that mean Katherine?” Katherine turned to look at Lilian square on.
“Oh come on Lilian, think about it.” Lilian thought. And Lilian guessed, she shook her head but Katherine only nodded in reply.
“No. But that means the Weirdmen know. The Nightshade.” Lilian almost couldn’t say it outloud. “He’s getting it from THEM.”
Benlunar - Episode 23
The weird man and the Weardian.
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
Lilian stood stock still. She was with Katherine, her new Freedos friend and Fritha, her Feinhound. She was standing on a street in a semi-affluent part of the city, opposite a man claiming to be Cromwell Attorcop. With each passing second Lilian could sense the awkwardness of the situation intensifying, but she had no idea what to say or do. The imposter Attorcop’s brow was furrowing in anger, he still had one hand on the door handle, ready to shut it in their faces at any moment. It was Katherine who broke the silence.
“Er, yes, hello sir. My friend here was travelling to the city with a friend of yours, a Mr Botham and they got seperated…” Lilian suddenly found her tongue and interrupted Katherine. She couldn’t let this man get any more information on her than necessary.
“Oh!” Lilian’s mind was racing, “You know what? I just remembered that my uncle told me of a different place that we could meet. Mr Attorcop was it? I am so sorry to have bothered you. I’m sure you’re very busy. Er my uncle Mr Botham sends his regards I’m sure.” Her plan was to make a quick excuse and then run away but an idea suddenly occurred to her. How committed WAS this man in posing as Mr Attorcop. She looked up at him, she didn’t have to look too high as he was not much taller than her, and she said, “You do know my uncle yes?” The man had gone from angry to confused, Lilian got the impression he didn’t get bothered by young women very much.
“I meet many people in my line of work.” A clever dodge, thought Lilian. She had to find a way to rumble this imposter.
“Of course,” She replied, “I only mean that… when he spoke of you he spoke very highly about your apothecary business.” This seemed to throw him slightly, his eyes narrowed before he spoke, glancing from Fritha and back to Lilian, his grip relaxed on the handle as he realised this was more than just a quick interaction.
“Well it has been a while since I’ve practised apothecary. Perhaps he knew me from my younger days. Please do send him my regards when you see him.” Lilian was too slow to think of a question or statement that might catch him out. He smiled an insipid grin, clearly trying to placate her and began to shut the door.
“Goodbye ladies, I do hope you find your… uncle.” He said this last word through the small crack in the door before it finally closed. Lilian saw the light from the street reflected in his eyes, they were twisted into an almost, knowing smile.
Lilian was fuming, if she had been prepared she might have caught him off guard. She turned on her heel and started stomping away. She was half way down the hill before Katherine and Fritha caught up with her.
“Amelia?” Lilian kept walking, she was trying to think. “Amelia wait.” All she could see was that greasy man’s leering smile etched in anger in her mind’s eye. “Amelia you’re walking too fast.” Lilian suddenly became aware of Katherine, she was practically running beside her. Lilian didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t want to stop. “Amelia!”
“My name is not Amelia.” Lilian had walked another twenty feet before she realised what she’d said. She froze in place. Fritha trotted up to her and sniffed her hand. Lilian turned around slowly. Katherine was standing at the other end of a crossroads. There were a few people walking past them but most people were minding their own business. To any casual observers, they might have looked like a mother and daughter having an argument. Katherine looked confused, and hurt. And she had every right to be, thought Lilian. People don’t like being lied to. Lilian owed her an explanation. But she was currently too angry to put the right thoughts into the right words.
Lilian started walking towards her, but before she could get within speaking distance two men appeared from out of a sidestreet. They were quick and silent in their steps, appearing like shadows from darkness. Within a second they were beside Katherine, towering over her like two grim statues. Lilian’s head was still too clouded with rage to be able to process the events unfolding clearly. She approached slowly, seeing the look of terror on Katherine’s face and taking it as a warning. The men wore identical clothes, long dark green jackets over black leather breastplates that were fastened with copper buckles. On their chest they wore the emblem of a large cat’s face, possibly a tiger or a lynx. They had big black boots on that seemed to step with a silence unbefitting their size.
“Is everything alright here miss?” The one on Katherine’s right side spoke with a deep and calm voice. Katherine seemed cowed into silence but after a few seconds, she managed to find her voice.
“Yes. Yes sir everything is fine.” His counterpart turned to look at Lilian. His stare was intense and held her in place. The first one spoke again.
“It seems like you’re having some sort of disagreement. May I remind you that public outbursts of aggression are prohibited.”
“Yes, there is no disagreement. I mean, there was but everything is fine now. Thank you sir.”
By now Katherine’s legs were practically shaking. Lilian didn’t know why, but she was beginning to dislike these men. The one looking at her suddenly spoke in a raised voice.
“I hope you have a leash for that animal miss?” Lilian wanted to reply that she didn’t need a leash. That Fritha was well trained and very friendly. But Something about Katherine’s eyes begged her to comply. Lilian swung her pack round, reached inside of it and pulled out the ball and rope she’d been given in Hundsberg. She looped the end round Fritha’s neck and raised the wooden spool to show the man.
“All dogs must be leashed when walking the streets of Freedos.” Lilian didn’t understand why she was being told this after this man had clearly just watched her leash Fritha. She began to feel herself wishing for this interaction to end.
“Miss, please make sure that dog stays leashed and you keep your disputes in your homes.” The first man said this to Katherine who was nodding emphatically. There was a moment of silence before the first man spoke again.
“The Weardian thank you for your compliance.” And with that they were gone. As quickly and silently as they had arrived.
Lilian approached Katherine who was breathing deeply, she opened her mouth to speak but Katherine quickly gripped her arm under the shoulder and started leading her away. Lilian tried to speak,
“Who were…”
“Sh!” Katherine hushed her and tightened her grip. She was practically frog marching her through the streets of Ziedmont, past colourful doors and tall residential buildings. The balconies here had steel balustrades, wrought into swirling repetitive patterns. There was a design to Ziedmont that Checkad square and the old town missed. Unlike those areas which had buildings and shops practically piled on top of each other, the streets here had a certain intention to them, like they were all there on purpose, rather than just because they had to be. Lilian didn’t have much time to admire them however as she was being pushed and pulled along the cobbles by Katherine. She turned to look down at Fritha who was managing to keep up, straining a little against her leash which she was not used to wearing. Lilian glanced back and thought she saw a flash of green material disappear behind into a side street.
“Don’t look back.” Katherine whispered sharp and low. She turned them both into a narrow lane that was flanked by bay windows. Lilian caught glimpses of satin dresses and dark formal jackets before she was once again jerked left up a small flight of steps. Small doors lined both sides of the stairway and Lilian looked up to see just a small patch of sky engulfed by slate roofs and little windows.
Katherine finally eased her grip, they must have been walking for ten minutes and Lilian rubbed her arm to ease the slight ache Katherine had left. Katherine didn’t pay her any attention, instead she checked behind them to see if they were being followed and once she was satisfied that they weren’t, she climbed a few more steps before stopping outside a door painted yellow. The paint was old and chipped but it still lent an air of friendliness to the entrance. Lilian watched as Katherine knocked, waited, and after receiving no reply reached up to a brick about a foot above the door frame and began working it loose. It didn’t take long for the brick to come out, revealing a small cavity in the wall. Katherine reached inside and pulled out a key before replacing the brick, unlocking the door and leading Lilian inside.
The doorway opened into a modest city apartment. Three steps lead down from street level into a low ceilinged room with a large wooden dining table on one side and a small kitchen area on the other, complete with wood burning stove, blue painted cupboards and a basin that presumably drained into the city's sewer system. The walls were white plaster framed by old beams. Little corridors lead off to other parts of the house. Lilian strained her neck to look down one of these and saw a small set of ladder steps leading to an upper floor. She smiled. It was like any house in Benlunar, only more compact. She unlooped the leash from Fritha’s neck and turned back to Katherine who was locking the door behind them.
“Do you live here?” Katherine’s eyes were closed, she seemed to be taking a moment before turning from the door. It was as if her whole body was exhaling. At last she turned around.
“No. This is my friend’s house. It was close by and the safest place I could think of.” Lilian couldn’t help but notice how scared Katherine had been on the way over.
“Who were those men back there?” She followed Katherine to the dining table and both women sat down and rested for a second before talking.
“They were Weardian. The Empress’s secret guard. There aren’t many of them, but they are brutal and merciless.” Lilian was confused.
“But, we weren’t doing anything wrong were we?” Katherine exhaled a short, derisive laugh.
“It doesn’t matter. They’re allowed to decide what is right and what is wrong. I’ve seen them arrest stall holders who didn’t give them free food. They said their prices were too low and thus insulting to the quality of Freedos produce. The Empress created them a few years ago when crime in the city had become very bad. And it worked, for a while. Trouble is it worked a little too well, now all they do is go around making up crimes and intimidating people, just so that they have something to do. You were right to keep quiet in their presence. Anything less than complete compliance usually resorts in an arrest or a beating. If you see them in the street, promise me you’ll keep your head down and walk in the opposite direction? Amelia it’s…” Katherine stopped herself, as if remembering a sudden detail. She looked at Lilian as if looking at someone new, she had leaned in to give the advice, but now found herself leaning back in distrust. Lilian felt shame rising inside her.
“Back near Mr Attorcop’s place, you said your name wasn’t Amelia… Why did you say that? What are you not telling me?” Lilian felt her blood boil again at the man’s theft of Mr Attorcop’s name. She took a second to think and breathed in a deep and calming breath. Lilian had known Katherine for less than two days but she judged her to be kind, and if she was to survive on these cruel streets, she would need friends. And friends trust each other, but trust implies truth. And so Lilian told the truth.
“My name is Lilian Lausanne. Not Amelia Botham. I am from Benlunar but I didn’t travel here with my uncle. I travelled here with my friend. His name is Cromwell Attorcop and we did get split up on the journey. I thought that by finding his address I might be able to sneak in later and stay there while I wait for him but… Well someone opened the door and that man we met earlier was NOT Cromwell Attorcop. He’s an imposter.” Katherine raised her hand to quieten Lilian’s quickening rant. She looked offended. Betrayed even. And she had every right to be.
“I’m sorry.” Whispered Lilian, “We agreed that it would be safest to travel under assumed identities because someone in Benlunar had tried to hurt Mr Attorcop when they found him there. I didn’t mean to trick you or lie to you, it was for your safety as well as mine. But…” Lilian was running out of words, “But I don’t know what to do now and I’m scared and I miss my home.” She felt hot tears filling her eyes and falling down her face. Fritha had returned from exploring the various rooms and laid her head down on Lilian’s lap. She licked her hand softly and Lilian was thankful for her sympathy and warmth. Katherine stood up and walked over to the kitchen area. Lilan thought she was abandoning her, that she was going to go over to the front door and kick her out. But instead she returned with a cotton cloth and used it to wipe away Lilian’s tears.
“Why don’t I make us some tea, and you can start from the beginning.”
An hour or so later, two mugs, were sitting on the dining room table drained of their contents. Katherine, Lilian and Fritha had moved to a room further into the house. This one was decorated with framed pictures of the sea, of lonely fishing boats resting on the ocean floor during low tide. There were comfortable seats in this room, padded chairs and even a settee, they had frayed edges and fading colours but were still more relaxing than the hardwood dining room seats. Tears had been shed and comforting words spoken low to them. Lilian was feeling better but the disorientating nature of the city was finally catching up with her. She felt displaced. Without purpose or kinship. At times during the telling of her story she clutched onto Fritha like she was a liferaft on a tempestuous sea. She spared no detail, except the exact circumstance of Mr Attorcop’s disappearance. She wasn’t quite ready to relive that vision just yet. Katherine was the perfect audience, understanding and non-judgmental. In turn she told Lilian more about herself. She was a tutor, she worked for a noble family and taught three children. They had invited her to come with them to Benlunar and she took the opportunity to travel there with her friend, William. She talked about William quite a bit, referring to him constantly as a friend even though Lilian was old enough to guess he was probably more than that. He was also not her husband. Her husband’s name was Taymor, Lilian had seen him in the market the day before. He was kind, but they had married young and Katherine’s eyes dimmed whenever she mentioned him. Like he was a cloud passing across the sun. It was not a hateful or resentful look, just a sad one. Lilian knew better than to ask her to go into too much detail. When the second hour was nearly over, the two women were throwing their heads back in laughter at some silly story. Katherine wiped away a tear, a happy one this time, and took a long and examined look at her new friends.
“So, what are you going to do?” Lilian had been mulling this question over at the back of her mind the entire time the two had been talking.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I have so many things that need taking care of, like where to stay and how to eat, but also I need to figure out what to do about that man! Honestly though he couldn’t have picked a worse person to impersonate, there is someone in this city who has paid a professional assassin to kill hi…” A thought suddenly occurred to her, and also to Katherine at once. They looked at each other. Lilian continued,
“I mean… If I were to find the assassin.”
“No.” said Katherine, “You’re better than that Lilian. This city corrupts enough young people, I shan’t allow you to be one of them. Whatever you decide to do, you will do it peacefully and you will succeed. And if you don’t succeed, well at least you won’t have blood on your hands.” Lilian nodded. She’d not seriously considered it. It was just a loud, brutish option, masking the quieter, calmer voice of reason. She wondered what Mr Attorcop would do in her situation and she concluded that she needed more time to think.
“I need to get more information. I need to know why he’s chosen Mr Attorcop, and what he’s doing there. But first I need to find a place to stay and a way of making some money.” Katherine nodded, and seemed like she was about to suggest something when they heard the sound of the front door being unlocked. Lilian stood up quickly and readied herself for a fight.
“It’s alright.” said Katherine, “That will be William.” Lilian shot her a surprised look,
“This is William’s house??” Katherine nodded.
“Like I said, it was close and I panicked. Don’t worry, he’s lovely and he’ll be able to help.” She stood up and walked towards the living room door.
“William?” Lilian instantly heard a shout coming from the entrance.
“Katy?? You nearly frightened the life out of me. What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” His voice was deep and warm, Lilian waited a second before stepping out to meet him.
“I came here after a run in with the Weardian, don’t worry, nothing happened. But I’m not alone. I’m not sure if you remember her but… well… Lilian?” Lilian stepped out of the room and came face to face with William and Katherine. William was as tall as Lilian remembered, broad shouldered but with a friendlier, rounder face than she’d thought he had. It had been dark the night they met in Benlunar. He was wearing a red dyed cotton shirt and black trousers. His hands were stained black presumably from whatever job he’d just come from. His expression was one of confusion but when he looked back at Katherine he cycled from realisation, to fear to anger in quick succession.
“Has she…”
“No dear,” Katherine raised her hands to calm him, “She’s done nothing wrong. It’s mere coincidence that we ran into each other on Checkad square. Sit, I’ll make you a tea and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“What in the stories is that thing?” William was taking steps back and pointing to just behind Lilian. Fritha had awoken from her nap and was sporting a particularly vibrant purple coat. Lilian and Katherine laughed, it was strange to see such a big man surprised by an equally gentle giant.
“Could be a magpie?” William set his large mug down on the dining room table with a thunk. He’d washed the ink from his hands, it turned out he was a typesetter at a printing press, and had sat with Lilian and Katherine while they filled him in on the day’s events and a bit of Lilian’s story.
“What’s that?” asked Lilian.
“It’s a form of insurance fraud. Someone dies or goes missing and the magpie swoops in and pretends to be their close family so that they can get some of their inheritance.” Lilian thought on this.
“But then why pretend to be Mr Attorcop?” William shrugged.
“Is he rich? Con-men usually follow money wherever they can find it.” Lilian shook her head.
“He’s not poor,” she conceded, “But I think he spends all his money on his equipment and research.”
“Well it could be that he’s after.” Now Katherine spoke up.
“But then why stay? Surely he’d have just robbed him and left.” said William. The three sat in silence, cycling through possibilities. Lilian was stumped so she once again employed Mr Attorcop’s brand of critical thinking. He liked to think out loud so Lilian, without hesitation began to talk.
“Whatever this man is after, my friend Cromwell Attorcop had some of it already. It might be money, but I don’t think Cromwell would keep his money in his home so it’s more likely to be a way of making money, seeing as what he’s doing IS a crime and crimes are normally committed with profit in mind. We could tell the guards, the Weardian, but I think Cromwell would want to stay clear of the authorities as I’m not sure everything he did was one hundred percent legal.” Lilian’s new friends gave her questioning looks,
“He’s not dangerous or anything. But he’s very clever and so might fancy himself above certain laws. And he doesn’t really like authority in general. So it’s most likely up to me to figure out what’s happening. The first step will be to find out what he’s doing so I’m going to figure out a way to keep an eye on him. I’ll need a place to stay over the next few days so I’ll see if The Greedy Goose will accept board for work.”
“Nonsense.” William flicked his hand away as if brushing away the comment, “You’ll stay here. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.” Lilian and Katherine looked at each other.
“Are you sure?” asked Lilian, “I don’t want to be trouble, I can look after myself.” Again William flicked his hand as if Lilian was describing something too idiotic to even bother himself with.
“I’m not here much so you’ll have to look after yourself to be sure, but I’m not having you wandering the streets again. Katherine seems to like you and so do I, you’ll be staying here and I won’t hear another word on the matter. Besides, you’d do the same for me.” Lilian was at a loss for words. She had no idea how she would ever be able to offer William the same kindness but she smiled and nodded, knowing that if she could, she would. A glimmer of Benlunar sparked to life in the small city house just then. A feeling of community and closeness even amongst the cold, indifferent walls of the city.
“Well then,” said Katherine, “That’s settled. I’ll drop by when I can but it’s not going to be easy. Between work and home duties I don’t have a lot of time to myself.” William put his hand on hers and the two shared a look of disappointment. Katherine suddenly sat up with a start, “Speaking of which, I should be getting going. Amel… I mean, Lilian. Good luck. Hopefully Mr Attorcop will come back to Freedos soon and you won’t have to deal with all of this alone.” Lilian smiled back at her and said in a low and happy voice.
“I’m not alone.”
Lilian slept soundly that night on William’s sofa, Fritha was by her side on the carpet and the two rose the next day when they heard William climbing down the squeaky ladder steps and heading out to work. Lilian ate some bread and spent the morning cleaning the kitchen and the rest of the ground floor, William wasn’t a dirty man but his house felt a little neglected and Lilian thought it was the least that she could do after he had shown her such kindness. Just before midday she persuaded Fritha to change her coat into her shaggy dog look and the two set off towards Mr Attorcop’s address in Ziedmont. Lilian was careful to keep an eye out for any large men in green coats and thankfully she didn’t see any on her way there.
It was a warm day and the various rivers stank of their associated waste and chemicals, the smell was compounded by the heat but Lilian didn’t mind. For the first time since arriving in Freedos she was able to breathe calmly and appreciate its beauty. It may not have had Benlunar’s spectacular views but there was still a certain charm to the multicoloured rooftops and shutters. She had to dodge various piles of horse muck while walking, but as long as she kept her eyes pointed up she was able to find wonder. It took the form of flowers in window boxes, or a cat lounging on a sunhit wall. Lilian even tried smiling at the people she walked past and whereas most of them paid her no mind, occasionally her smile would be met with a cheerful face or a nod or even the tip of a hat. Her sunny disposition began to fade however as she approached Mr Attorcop’s building. Before turning the corner, and looking at the door, she glanced around the street for any place she might be able to hide. It was mostly a quiet part of town, Lilian could hear the sounds of a crowd coming from a few streets away, but what with there not being any shops or cafes on this street this residential area was fairly quiet. Occasionally someone would walk past or come out of a house, so it was rare that the street became completely empty, but it was never busy enough to get lost in any sort of crowd. Lilian tugged on Fritha’s leash as she lowered her head to drink from a dirty looking puddle.
“That’s dirty Fritha.” The feinhound looked back at her, confused. Just then an idea leapt out from the puddle.
In its reflection, Lilian could see the roofs of the various buildings, some had gaps between them but no gap was so large that it couldn’t be jumped. She began to search for a nearby alley or quiet enough side street. It took a little while, and she had to back track quite a bit, but eventually she found a quiet place with a neglected statue of a woman at the end of it. A wooden shutter jutted out above its head and Lilian guessed she might be able to reach the low roof after climbing just a couple of handholds up the wall. She glanced about and was thankful for the slight bend in the alley that obstructed the view of the statue from the street. She buried Fritha’s leash amongst some tall flowers growing in a small bed under a ground floor window. She gave Fritha the sign for ‘hide’ and watched as she sat, became very still and gradually took on the quality of the surrounding plants. Lilian then turned back to the statue and thanked Gorakja for the recent dry weather. She scrambled nimbly up the statue, onto the shutter, up one then two bricks and within thirty seconds she was up on the lowest section of roof. From there it took a running jump and a couple of attempts to scramble up onto the higher section. After she’d made it she was able to look out over the alley and streets below. Smiling, she turned towards Mr Attorcop’s house and began her journey to the main road.
Some tiles were loose and the moss made them a little slippy but on the whole she made it across the rooftops without too much trouble. When she reached the one opposite Mr Attorcop’s place she dropped to her stomach and crawled to the edge. She suddenly became aware of the large window in Mr Attorcop’s attic residence but decided that hiding behind a chimney should give her enough cover from anyone looking out. Besides, this view of the window AND the front door was too good to give up. The first hour went by with little activity. Lilian was able to see the imposter wondering about the attic through the window, but she couldn’t make out exactly what he was doing. During the second hour she began to worry that this was all a waste of time. Her neck was hurting from propping herself up and her smock was getting filithier by the minute. The heat of the afternoon sun was also not something she had counted on having to endure, but on the roof she was exposed to all elements. It wasn’t until the third hour that she seriously considered giving up. She was worried about having left Fritha down in the alley and her stomach was starting to grumble from lack of attention. Lilian was about to call it a day when finally, something out of the ordinary happened. The sun was starting to set and cooler air was making Lilian start to shiver when she saw a man approach the door on the street. Lilian's heart leapt into her mouth. Hopefully this could provide her with some information as to what this fake Attorcop was up to. She suddenly realised that were she in her state of focus she might be able to hear what he said, but it was too late as the door was already opening and the short, greasy haired charlatan was poking his head through the crack. They spoke for just a few seconds, the fake Attorcop glancing up and down the street as they did.
“What are you up to?” whispered Lilian, out loud to herself. Suddenly the door was shut and the visitor was left alone on the street. He tried to look as casual as possible, but Lilian could tell that he was nervous. He shifted his weight constantly and kept bringing his hands in and out of his pockets. He was a young man, possibly around William’s age, with hair so blonde it was almost white. Lilian couldn’t tell much about him from his clothes but he looked tired. Not long after the door shut, it opened again and the greasy man was back. Lilian narrowed her eyes, desperately trying to catch every detail, but the visitor annoyingly placed himself in front of the crack in the door. The two men spoke a while more and then Lilian saw the door shut. She swore under her breath. The most interesting thing to happen all day and her brilliant viewpoint had been useless. She cursed herself for not slipping into hyper focus and listening in. For all she knew it might be days before he had a similar interaction.
Lilian watched the man turn and start walking down the street in the direction from where he’d come from. Lilian had to make a quick decision, follow him, stay watching the door or head back to William’s. She decided to stand up, her body was stiff and aching so she was immediately grateful for her choice. She made sure to stay low and began tracking the visitor’s movements through the streets from the rooftops. She tried to stay quiet but had to double check that he hadn’t noticed anything after a couple of jumps between roofs. He was walking quickly and Lilian ended up mistiming one of her jumps, perhaps her body hadn’t fully regained its strength after lying on her front for so long, but she slipped on her landing and scraped her chin on a slate. It stung something terrible but Lilian pressed on. Finally, after ten minutes of tracking, the man ducked into a side street and stopped moving. Lilian had a perfect view of him and although he looked about after stopping, he never would have thought someone was spying on him from above. Lilian watched as he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. His hand withdrew slowly as if handling something very precious. Lilian watched in confusion as he seemed to be double checking the item’s very existence. From what Lilian could tell, it was a small bottle that appeared to be filled with a purple liquid. Quick as a flash he placed it back in his pocket and was on his way. Lilian didn’t feel like following him, not wanting to leave Fritha alone for much longer. She returned to her faithful companion, who was still perfectly hidden in the flower bed, and walked back to William’s house, her head full of strange meetings and bottles and mysterious purple liquid.
William was home when she returned. She let herself in using the same hidden key Katherine had used the day before. She opened the door to the incredible smell of roasted chicken and steamed vegetables.
“Just in time!” she heard William say, his voice as warm as the steaming chicken he was currently dishing onto plates. The pair sat down to eat and Lilian filled him in on her progress that day. She had gotten to the point where she was watching the man from the roof above the quiet side street when William set his cutlery down and paused.
“And what happened then?”
“Nothing really. He reached into his pocket and brought out a little bottle, put it back and went off, that’s when I decided to come…”
“Lilian,” William interrupted her, “What was in the bottle?” Lilian felt a pang of nerves for some reason.
“Just some liquid.” William fixed her with a serious glare.
“What colour was the liquid?”
“Like a sort of dark purple.” Lilian was looking right at William’s face, so she watched as the colour drained from it in seconds. He put his hand on the table top, as if to steady himself, even though he was already sitting down.
“Gods above us.” If Lilian didn’t know any better, she could have sworn he was scared. No. Terrified.
“What is it?” she asked. William took a big gulp before uttering the word:
“Nightshade.”
Benlunar - Episode 22
Friends in Freedos
Lilian has been struggling to survive in her new surroundings. After two weeks in the city, just how far will she go to secure a meal?
The city, like a hive is teaming with life
People crawl over it like insects or parasites
It’s a place you can thrive or die in a ditch
Where you can step on the poor to get slightly more rich
When the mountains are flat and the seas are dry
The towers will stand stabbing the sky
As long as there is freedom and people in chains
Humanity dies, Freedos remains
The sharp stabbing pain in Lilian’s stomach urged her to strike. Her legs were also starting to cramp as she had been crouching in the alley for fifteen minutes now. From here she had the perfect view of the bread stall across the square. It was still early in the morning so there were plenty of fresh loafs. Their scent wafted down the alley and made her stomach practically cry out in hunger. She swallowed the saliva already wetting her mouth in anticipation of her first bite to eat in two days. She didn’t want to steal. She’d tried asking a fruit seller for a charitable apple yesterday afternoon, but he barely looked at her before pushing her face hard and causing her to fall flat on her backside into a muddy puddle. She tried not to blame him, there were so many young and hungry children in this city that if he said yes to even one, he would have been mobbed and emptied of his stock before he could say ‘you’re welcome’.
It was now or never. Lilian watched as the baker became distracted by a piece of parchment getting blown away by a sudden gust of wind. She need only stand up, navigate the crowd, grab that small loaf on the far left of the table and disappear into the mass of people. She’d walk across the square with her pride intact, and leave it a desperate thief. She thought of her mother and father but their faces disappeared in her mind, replaced quickly by another barking shout from her stomach. It was now or never. She stood up and stumbled a little before regaining full use of her legs. Her ragged and torn travelling smock clung to her skin where it was wet from kneeling on the damp alley floor. She left the shade of the alley and stepped, blinking into the sunlit square. People rushed past her left and right, she heard the shouts from various sellers and she wished that one of the voices still belonged to Mr Hayes, but him and his family had left Freedos three days ago, wishing her the best of luck and leaving her with just a few copper heads which she’d spent that night on a meal. Lilian almost stumbled as she was jostled by a young man carrying a tray of rolls,
“Mind out lass!” She heard him say, she might have apologised, but he was already swallowed up by the throng. Lilian had never seen crowds like those on Checkad Square on market day. Little flags were flying from lampposts with the heads of lynx cresting the fields of pink, white and green. A young couple stooped under a string of them before almost running headlong into Lilian, but she kept going. The one small loaf was still there, occupying her site and mind. She was close now, she could practically taste it, a quick check to see if the baker was still distracted, he was thankfully bending down to pick up the stray page. Lilian looked back and readied her hand for the task. Her hand was actually stretched out in front of her, all she had to do was lean forward and tighten her grip on the loaf. So what was stopping her?
It was a voice. A woman’s voice a few feet to her left. There was something about it. Something familiar. Lilian had been so lost and confused these past few days, she’d almost forgotten what familiarity felt like. Yet here in this alien world filled with people, poverty and power there was a glimmer of home. She couldn’t place it, but the voice put her back in Benlunar for some reason. Back on familiar streets and in front of friendly faces. It must have been a testimony to just how much she missed her home that this voice had stopped her from feeding herself. Lilian put her hand down and looked about for its source. Standing in a small group were two men and two women. They seemed to be couples that had run into each other at the market and were catching up about something or other. The subject of their conversation didn’t matter to Lilian, only the source of the familiar voice. Lilian pretended to be inspecting the bread while keeping one eye on the group. There it was again, that voice. It was soft and silky, like… like a piece of material floating on a breeze. Lilian noticed that it belonged to the short woman with dark hair and brown eyes. Although she remembered her storyteller voice, Lilian was having difficulty placing exactly how she knew her. Had she run a stall in the Benlunar market? Perhaps. Lilian gave up pretending to look at the bread and sidled up, close to the group. She couldn’t help but look at the dark haired woman, it was like remembering a dream upon waking. Both clear and faded at once. The woman was wearing a grey Summer dress, not quite the clothes of a noble, but not exactly a pauper neither. She was standing with her arm linked with her husbands. At least, Lilian assumed them to be married, they were wearing wedding bands and seemed awfully close. But she didn’t recognise the man, or his voice. He was tall and wearing a red doublet and black trousers. As Lilian skirted round the group, keeping her head low and hoping the crowd was keeping her hidden, she tried again and again to find something familiar or recognizable about the woman. Her stomach twisted again in hunger and Lilian almost bent double. For the hundredth time that day, she cursed her decision to spend her only coin on hiring the three mercenaries from the hundred. She knew that once she’d found a reliable source of food or income, she would stop regretting that decision, but in this moment, she’d rather have left the Garrow family fend for themselves and be tucking into one of the hot pork sandwiches she could smell from across the square. And then, in a sudden and beautiful moment of clarity, everything fell into place. The coin. Thought Lilian. The gold sovereign I had been given in Benlunar, it was her. SHE gave it to me that night I found the dead dog. She had been in the alleyway with… a man. But not THAT man. Lilian’s eyes widened in realisation as she narrowly dodged a group of teenage boys chasing a cloth ball one of them had kicked into the crowd. Lilian understood now why her silence had been bought at such a high price. Lilian looked back at the woman and saw that the woman was looking back at her.
Lilian froze. She knew she had to make several important decisions in order for her to use this situation to her advantage, but her empty stomach and dry mouth were clouding her thoughts and judgements. She glanced around her quickly to find her exits, a habit she had picked up from Mr Attorcop. She had thought her closest one to be directly behind her but when she whirled round to check, she found the way to be blocked by a small crowd who had gathered to watch a colorfully dressed performer. He was currently juggling some cakes and occasionally dropping one on his face, causing the crowd to erupt in fits of laughter. Lilian might have laughed too if she was not already looking back at the woman in grey. She saw her whisper something to her husband and excuse herself from the group. Lilian almost bumped into a dark skinned woman who instinctively checked her pockets. City folk seemed to be extremely distrustful of strangers. Lilian apologised quickly and started moving back through the mass, a plan was slowly formulating in her mind, but what with navigating her way through all these people as well as trying desperately to ignore the pain in her stomach, she settled for improvising when the time came. She looked back to see the woman following her close behind. Lilian began pushing folks a little more forcefully than she would have liked. She got a few comments but it was worth it. She had to get this woman alone, then she could… Could what? Talk to her? Yes and then what? Lilian was feeling dizzy with the effort of pushing through the sea of people. One final shove and she found herself back in the alley from which she had stalked the baker. She started to run down it but suddenly felt a heavy hand fall on her shoulder. The woman’s grip was surprisingly strong, either that or Lilian wasn’t aware of just how weak she had been feeling. Lilian was whipped round and came face to face with the woman in grey. Her large brown eyes seemed worried. Lilian wanted to struggle free and run, but realised that she craved contact and conversation more than safety right now.
“Excuse me,” The woman’s tone was stern, but even then Lilian couldn’t help but wonder at the quality of her voice. “What are you doing?” Lilian didn’t know how to answer, she could only utter guttural imitation of speech.
“I… I’m…”
“Do I know you?” Lilian nodded and looked down at the woman’s hand, thankfully, she loosened her grip. Lilian looked back up at her and saw the realisation dawn in her eyes.
“You’re that girl… from Benlunar.” Lilian nodded again. The woman’s face went from smiling recognition to shock horror in a split second.
“Did you… follow me here?” Lilian curled her eyebrows in a question and shook her head. She tried to speak again but her throat was still very dry.
“What are you…? Listen.” The woman suddenly became very serious. “If you’re trying to intimidate or, or blackmail me in some way I won’t have it you hear me? My husband is just a shout away and he’ll knock some sense into you before you can…” She stopped herself mid-sentence, searching for the right words. It was clear that she was not used to threatening people. Lilian could hear the tremble in her voice as she spoke. Lilian had never felt so powerless and yet this woman was quite visibly scared of her. A thought flashed into her head. There might be a way for Lilian to use this fear to her advantage but… no. She had decided not to become a thief that day, she would be damned if she would become a blackmailer instead. Summoning all her strength, she gripped the woman’s grey dress with both hands and managed to eek out a whisper.
“Please. I need water.” The woman looked confused at first, but then quickly understood. She took a step back and seemed to take all of Lilian in at once, suddenly she saw the desperation in her eyes. This was the girl from that little mountain town, but she was ravaged by hunger. There was a bruise under her left eye and she was thin as a rake.
“Wait here.” Lilian watched the woman disappear in a flurry of grey material. She returned moments later with a cup of water. Lilian knew enough about Freedos by now to know that fresh water this deep in the city was not cheap. She had seen an old man drink from one of the rivers on her first day, but she had known by its colour that copying him would have made her very sick. Lilian took the cup eagerly with both hands and drank deeply from it.
“Easy, slow down. You don’t want to cough it back up.” Lilian took a breath and did as she was told. It would be hard to disobey any suggestion that soothing voice spoke. Lilian tipped the last drop into her mouth and swallowed hard. It felt like swallowing a ball of air and she promptly belched loudly. Manners had disappeared with the last of Mr Hayes’s copper coins. Although the water felt wonderful, she was still struggling with a painful stomach. At least now she was able to speak.
“Thank you.” she said at last. The woman was trying not to laugh at what must have been the loudest burp she’d ever heard. At least, from a young lady. With the power of speech hers once again, Lilian was quick to defend herself.
“I didn’t follow you. I travelled here from Benlunar with my uncle. And I don’t mean you any harm.” Lilian was sticking to the plan she had made with Mr Attorcop, traveling under her false name, Amelia Botham.
“And where is your uncle now?” The woman looked around as she spoke, half expecting a man to emerge from a doorway or crate.
“We got separated on the journey. We had agreed to meet in Freedos, should that happen, but I’ve been here for nearly a week and he hasn’t been at our meeting spot nor has he left a message.” Most of this was true, Lilian tactfully left out the details of how they got split up, not wanting to relive it again. Lilian saw pity form in the woman’s eyes. She took the cup back and looked into it, thinking.
“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”
“Amelia. Amelia Botham. My uncle is called Cressido.” Lilian felt tears start to sting her eyes. Talking to someone and receiving compassion instead of contempt made her feel human. She had only been in the city a week, but she feared that without money, contacts or resources, she would end up poor and living on these streets for a lifetime. She thought of her mum and dad and felt an ache in her heart, as well as her stomach.
“Pleased to meet you Amelia, my name is Katherine. I’m sorry about raising my voice, you… you gave me a fright. You see, the man I was with just now…” Lilian saw her face turn red in the dim light of the alley. Katherine nervously picked at her nails and avoided Lilian’s eye.
“Well, it’s complicated. He’s my husband and…” Again she cut herself off. Lilian quite unconsciously felt her hands move to Katherine’s.
“Miss Katherine, I don’t know you and you don’t know me but, you’re the first person who’s spoken to me in days and… you bought me water.” Lilian thought for a second so as to pick her words carefully.
“All I’m saying is, I don’t think I could ever think badly of you. Not after the kindness you’ve shown me today. I won’t cause you any trouble, in fact, if you want I can leave you alone right n…” At that point Lilian’s right leg buckled and she fell to one knee. The wooden cup clattered away and Lilian’s vision blurred. She felt Katherine’s arms catch her and for a moment she was a child again, being picked up by her mother after falling and scraping her knee on a paving stone.
“You poor thing, look at you. This city is chewing you up. Can you walk? I know a place nearby where you can rest, look, put your arm around me and we can walk there together.” Lilian could only obey. Something about this woman’s manner told her that she could be trusted and Lilian’s body was resigning itself to that trust, no matter what Lilian’s mind would tell it. Together they walked slowly down the alley, away from the noise of the market. Lilian tried to mutter a word,
“Frtha…” Katherine bent her ear to listen but couldn’t make it out. She tried to direct this young girl down the left side street but she felt resistance in her. Her left hand was pointing to the right but Katherine knew that way to be a dead end.
“We should keep moving, you need to rest.”
“No.” Said Lilian, “Fritha.” That word again. Katherine didn’t understand but she seemed adamant about going towards the dark and smelly alleyway. Suddenly Katherine had reservations. Was this all a ploy to lure her away from the crowds? To take her to a secluded place where her friends were waiting to relieve her of her valuables? Katherine shook the thought away. Had city life truly made her so cynical? This girl was in trouble and she would be damned if she was going to leave her. What if this had been one of the children in her care? Would she be able to live with herself with yet another slight on her character. The two slowly moved towards the darkness, the smell of slop intensified and Katherine tried to avoid breathing through her nose. She instinctively looked up, expecting to have to dodge the contents of a full chamber pot at any moment. The young girl seemed to be gaining strength and so Katherine demanded clarity.
“Why are you taking me here?”
“Fritha. She’s my friend. I can’t leave her.” And so Katherine understood. This girl was not fully alone. She had a cat or dog to which she was showing incredible loyalty. Katherine remembered her childhood dog fondly and understood the instinct to protect it. She hoped the animal would appreciate such devotion. As they turned a corner, she saw the tall wall ahead marking the end of the passage. At its foot were several crates, a hessian sack and a rotten looking barrel. She noticed a small pile of straw and wondered if this was where the girl had been sleeping. She expected to see a small dog emerge at any moment, but she had to stop herself from screaming when she saw a rat crawl out from under one of the crates. Was THIS Amelia’s pet? It didn’t look any different to any of the city rats that plagued the city’s back streets and waterways. She was about to explain to Amelia that they couldn’t take this rat with them, the establishment she was bringing her to kept to strict codes of hygiene and they would throw them out as soon as seeing it. Katherine opened her mouth to protest when the hessian bag sprang to life and ate the rat in a swift and single bite.
A little while later, after an illuminating explanation as to the existence and nature of Feinhounds, Katherine brought Lilian to a small inn in the centre of Freedos. She had considered bringing her home but that might elicit questions that she did not quite feel like answering at this time. The inn was a cozy place that mainly housed regular visitors to the city. It was called The Greedy Goose and Katherine knew the couple who owned it. They had become friends after her frequent visits this past year. They had helped Lilian and her strange pet get up the stairs and into an empty guest room. Some vegetable soup was brought up to feed the starving girl. Lilian ate it slowly, worried that her stomach might reject it after having been empty for so long. It took all her remaining strength not to tip the entire bowl straight down her throat. After finishing and allowing Fritha to lick the bowl clean, Lilian lay back on the bed. She wanted to say thank you to Katherine, she might even have spoken the words but her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow and Lilian surrendered to sleep.
Apart from her hunger, the reason sleep had come so easily was because Lilian had been avoiding sleep these past few days. She had preferred to stay awake and keep her wits about her. She had been telling herself that she needed to keep vigilant while sleeping in an alleyway, but she was in denial of the truth. Lilian had avoided sleep because of the dream. It was the same every night and it was here again now. She was back in the Hayes’ wagon. She could feel the wooden seat on her knee as she knelt to look behind her. She could hear the rumble of the wheels against the road, and she was trying desperately to shout something, but no words would leave her lips. In the retreating distance she saw Mr Attorcop, resigning himself to a grim fate, not even struggling to break free from its grip. That thing. It haunted her vision whenever she closed her eyes and it was haunting her dreams at night. It was why she hadn’t slept. She was scared of it. Scared of seeing its face again. Scared of seeing its twisted smile taunting her in the dark recesses of her dreams. Sleep was a small sacrifice to make when fighting the memory of a demon. Suddenly her dream shifted, she was approaching it now, as if the wagon was going in reverse. Its hideous head loomed ever bigger and bigger until Lilian was close enough to hear its breath. A dead and dreadful sound, like the breath of someone sick. Suddenly she was by Kilde’s bedside again, she wanted to reach out and turn him over, she wanted to speak to him, to tell him he never left her thoughts. But when he turned he was the demon, cackling and clinging to her outstretched arm.
Lilian awoke with a jolt. The window in her room was ajar and the breeze was causing her sweat covered body to shiver. She looked about, not understanding where she was for a few seconds before the memory of being taken here came back to her. It was dark. Lilian got off the bed to go and shut the window, Fritha looked up from the carpet on the floor, checking to see if they were leaving or if she could go back to sleep. Lilian stroked her ears as she walked past. She could hear sounds of voices coming from the streets of Freedos before the thunk of the window muffled them into silence. No matter the hour, Freedos never seemed to fall completely silent. Despite having eaten before going to sleep, Lilian felt another familiar pang of hunger. She felt it as she turned to look around the room and happened to notice the plate of buns on the table by the door. She smiled at Katherine’s kindness and, seeing as she didn’t feel like going back to sleep, decided to eat one. She hopped back onto the bed and pushed the pillow against the headboard so that she could sit up comfortably. Fritha, noticing that food was being consumed, got up and came close to Lilian. Sitting up on the bed meant that they were nearly eye to eye, so trying to ignore her was practically impossible. Not that Lilian was trying that hard. Smiling, she ripped the bun in half and held it out for Fritha to grab gently and wolf down in a couple of seconds before turning back to watch Lilian eating hers. Lilian smiled and patted the mattress beside her. Fritha took the suggestion with palpable pleasure. The mattress buckled and bent with her weight and Lilian had to shift to make space for her to lie down. Once settled, Lilian stroked her ears while she ate the bun. It felt so good to eat, Lilian felt her mind start to work once again, now that it was able to focus on other things rather than where her next meal was going to come from. What was she going to do if Mr Attorcop never came to Freedos? Go back to Benlunar? Maybe. Something held her back from this cause of action. Going back now would seem like admitting some kind of defeat, besides, she didn’t think Mr Attorcop would be beaten so easily and now that Lilian had an ally in the city, she had an advantage against the trials of survival. She finished the bun and reached under the bed for her pack. She had managed to grab it from the alley along with Fritha before coming to this inn. She wanted to take stock of any other advantages she might have for her mission to find Mr Attorcop. Fritha’s breathing slowed down and her fur began rippling through a cycle of dull colours as she fell asleep. Lilian pulled the tag on the draw string and reached inside her pack. She brought out a change of clothes, an empty water skin, a bag of sour berries and her old boots from Benlunar. She placed the items out on the bed in front of her and marvelled at just how little she owned. Lilian didn’t mind, she quite liked the idea of being able to pack up her worldly belongings at a moment’s notice and steal into the night for an adventure. She reached down inside the bag once more to the very bottom. She felt a small pile of grit and sand brush against her fingers before landing on what she sought. Slowly, she pulled out the folded cloth containing Kissandra’s knife. She placed it on the bed in front of her and carefully unwrapped the blade. It was still sharp as a razor and the snake’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim light. It wasn’t much but surely there must be something in this sorry pile that could be of some use. Lilian glanced out of the window, a candle had been lit in a room across the street from hers. Another light sleeper. She thought about the thousands of citizens that were asleep in the city at this moment.
She remembered arriving here the morning after leaving Mr Attorcop. She had been too anxious to appreciate the beauty of the city. The whole thing was built on the side of a hill. The locals referred to it as a mountain, but Lilian laughed at that description. Compared to the peaks around Benlunar, Freedos was built on little more than a hillock. You could get from the bottom of it to the top in a couple of hours, not that she had visited the top. That was where the palace was, along with the houses of the other noble families. They were seldom seen down here, preferring to sequester themselves from the middle and lower hill folk. Mr Hayes had said that from the top you could see the ocean and that after rain the city smelt of salt. It must not have rained in some time, thought Lilian, because all she ever smelt was slop and stale beer. The hill had apparently been a volcano once, but these days only fresh water erupted from its peak. The water trickled along man made gutters and through the homes of the nobles before falling down the hillside, collecting into five rivers. Most of these were used as natural sewers which meant that by the time the water reached the base of the hill it smelt awful and was practically poisonous. The citizens of Freedos used the rivers to travel, to trade, to power mills and much more. Everyone benefited from them in some way: nobles, traders, paupers, beggars and assassins.
Lilian’s eyes fell back on Kissandras knife. She had been hired in Freedos. Lilian wondered what she might do to get this weapon back. Would enlisting Kissandra be more helpful than the knife itself though? Thought Lilian. A tricky question. Lilian picked it up and examined it closely. The handle fascinated her endlessly. It must have been made by an extremely talented smith. The scales made for a great grip and when viewed from the right angle the tail seemed to extend as far as a grass snake’s entire body. At first Lilian thought that all the scales were the same, but she noticed one was actually indented as opposed to raised like the others. Impossible to see at a glance. Lilain ran her thumb over the indented scale just to get a feel for why it might be there. It couldn’t be a mistake, this thing was far too expertly crafted. Perhaps it had fallen off? No… the scales were not stuck on, they were carved into a single metal piece. Just then, as she moved her thumb over and around the indented scale, the one above it seemed to move ever so slightly. Strange. Thought Lilian. Is it coming loose? She began working it, pushing and pulling it from different angles. To her delight the scale actually glided down and slotted perfectly into the empty space beneath it. When she brought it all the way in she heard a small click and a line appeared at the base of the snake’s head. Pulling it slowly and carefully made the line grow bigger and Lilian found that she could separate the handle from the blade to reveal a hole in the top of the handle. The thing was actually hollow! She peered into it. Lilian had to narrow her eyes to see into the darkness. Was something in there? She tipped the handle over the bed. And then, as if from nowhere something fell out. It fell from the chasm, from a memory of another time and another place. A small bottle. Glass with a metal stopper. The bottle, or more accurately, vial contained a substance. A liquid that glowed bright white. Suddenly, Lilian’s room was bathed in this light. A colour and beauty from an unmistakable source. This vile contained the light of the moon. Lilian was now wide awake. She breathed out slowly and whispered the word filling her head.
“Essence”.
The next day Katherine came back to The Greedy Goose to check on Lilian, by that point Lilian had hidden the vile back in the dagger and tucked everything back into her pack. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what she might be able to achieve with an entire vile of lunar essence, but Mr Attorcop’s stern warnings along with the image of him pointing to the bottom of Benlunar mountain kept her from trying anything. Lilian had managed to go back to sleep and even though she had the same dream as before, she felt somehow less fearful this time around.
“What are you going to do today?” Katherine asked as the two of them tucked into a hearty breakfast, provided by the inn. Lilian chewed and swallowed a mouthful of bacon before answering her.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Firstly, I want to say, thank you. You’ve shown me a kindness I cannot hope to repay any time soon.” Katherine smiled.
“That’s quite alright Amelia. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.” Lilian nodded emphatically. “Besides, more time with this one is all I need right now.” Katherine was holding Fritha’s big head in her hands and bringing her nose to touch hers. She had become quite enamoured with Fritha since being shocked by her sudden appearance in the alley. Lilian smiled, happy to see Fritha getting to play with someone new again. Her large tail whipped and wagged, striking Lilian’s leg under the table as it did.
“I promise I will pay you back somehow.” Lilian continued after swallowing a bit of fat fried potato, “as for today my uncle did mention that there was someone in Freedos whom he knew. A friend I suppose. Or a colleague. His name is Cromwell Attorcop.” Katherine ruffled Fritha’s floppy ears as she thought on the name.
“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of him. Do you know what kind of work he does? The districts of Freedos are separated roughly by industry, we could ask around.” Lilian thought about what to answer.
“I’m not sure. Maybe politics? Is that a district?” Katherine’s brow furrowed and she glanced at a vacant looking Fritha before answering.
“Good politics or… bad politics.” Lilian laughed as she remembered everything about Mr Attorcop all at once.
“Bad politics.” This gave Katherine pause for thought.
“Well, I suppose we could try Dracow.”
“Great!” Said Lilian, shovelling a fresh fork of egg into her mouth, “How do I get to Dracow?”
“Oh no, you’re not going there alone. I’m coming with you. Dracow is… unsavoury.” Lilian was still new to Freedos and so did not know which areas were best to avoid. She recalled the bandits that had threatened the farmer and thought better of exploring the dodgier parts of the city alone.
“We can bring Fritha!” Katherine smiled at the suggestion and looked back at Fritha’s big dopey face.
“Of course. But who could be scared of such a beautiful creature, hm?” Lilian smiled and thought that now was the perfect time for Fritha to show off the trick they had been working on for the past few days.
“Fritha! Terrify!”
An hour later Lilian and Katherine were walking through the dark and cobbled streets of Dracow. They walked past dusty shop windows displaying barely legal goods. Rings that slipped onto knuckles to double ones punching power, dust that supposedly blinded any eye that it touched, one man even whispered that he would be happy to hurt anyone they wished for a small fee as the ladies walked past him. Leading the way and parting the crowd was Fritha. Hackled black fur making her seem even bigger than she already was, her teeth were slightly lengthened and constantly exposed, dripping sticky drool onto the mucky cobbles. She would snap at anyone who came too close and one man even dropped the box he was carrying when she surprised him from behind, sending it crashing to the floor, its contents presumably smashing on impact. Fritha’s coat was black and brown and clumped in places into dirty patches. She was a fearful site and although she drew a lot of attention, few dared approach them. Katherine was on the edge of giggling the entire time, watching grown men jump and squeal out of her way was an empowering feeling. She guided them to a small shop, the owner of which had once sold her a bag with a false bottom. He didn’t know anyone called Cromwell Attorcop but he directed them to a woman on the edge of the Dracow district who apparently ran an underground printing press. Lilian was keen to see it in action and so was disappointed when they got there and found only a small room with some political pamphlets and a few books for sale. While Katherine chatted with the owner Lilian wondered if one of the bookshelves concealed a secret entrance. Whilst looking around, she fed Fritha a sour berry for keeping up the excellent work. Katherine walked over to them after a few minutes.
“Apparently this Mr Attorcop works in an attic space in Ziedmont, we can get there in 20 or so minutes, I have the address.” Lilian smiled at the positive progress but knew that they wouldn’t find anything when they got there. Still, she thought, perhaps I can find a way in later and stay there while I wait for him. Once they left Dracow, Lilian whispered a command to Fritha and watched as she shifted into her shaggy dog look. This would draw a little less attention while they navigated the waterways and little bridges to get to Ziedmont. They crossed over several little rivers and Katherine explained why the water in them were all different colours.
“They each run through different districts. This one is purple because up there is the cloth market. They dye the fabrics in the river and it turns it this funny colour. It’s mostly this grey purple but I’ve seen it be bright green, even orange once. The river on the other side of Ziedmont is yellow, always. That’s because the district above that is the spice market. Spices dropped on the floor end up in the river and they turn it that bright colour.” Lilian listened as they walked, fascinated by city life. Benlunar felt so different. Even going to an area where they might be in danger felt strange. She had always wandered Benlunar alone and without fear. She learned that Katherine wasn’t actually from Benlunar, she was from a small town near the coast but had come to the city to work as the governess to a wealthy noble family.
Finally they reached the attic space where Mr Attorcop supposedly worked.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye.” said Lilian as she turned to Katherine.
“Aren’t you going to knock on the door?” she replied. Lilian had been so sure of not finding anyone home that she had forgotten to pretend to find that out for herself.
“Oh, yes of course.” She turned and wrapped on the small wooden door. The building was old but well kept. All the houses in Ziedmont were of modest size and relatively clean. Katherine had explained that this was a clever place to situate a business as Ziedmont was one of the few places frequented by both the rich and poor. They had had to walk a decent distance uphill and so the view was quite good. Lilian made a show of waiting and was about to turn and say goodbye to Katherine when the door surprisingly opened. Lilian almost leapt back in shock. Standing in the doorframe was a small man with messy black hair and the beginnings of a patchy beard flecked with grey. He wore a stained grey shirt and smelt as though he had not washed in several days. Lilian was too surprised to say anything and so he spoke.
“Can I help you?” His voice was high pitched and raspy. Lilian was still too taken aback to answer him and so Katherine stepped forward.
“Er yes, hello. We’re looking for someone by the name of Cromwell Attorcop.” And then the man said the last thing Lilian had expected him, or anyone to say.
“Yes. I’m Cromwell Attorcop.”
Benlunar - The Winter Special
It’s Winter in Benlunar!
The cold of the mountain bites with icicle teeth
Sharp and bitter it cuts like dagger in sheath
Benlunar folk know to stay home by the hearth
Swapping stories and songs until the season is past
Some legends are false but others might be true
What you believe of course is up to you
But when the sun is gone and taken the warmth with her
It’s hard to tell truth from lies in the darkness of winter
The snow was well into its third day of falling. The first night had been a delight. The second a site but the third was a nuisance. The residents of Benlunar were at this moment trudging through the knee high drift, on their way to the town square, getting soaked socks and shivery fingers. The sun was once again setting into the valley behind a thick layer of grey cloud, like a gold coin disappearing into the Stave Church’s money box. Chloe and George Bergren stamped their feet at the Church entrance, hoping to dislodge the worst of the snow and suffer less wetness during the upcoming service. They were nervous. This was their tenth winter in Benlunar, but the first where they were expected to perform in the Lang Natt show. They had been practising for weeks and now the whole town was finding their seats in the cavernous circular hall. Thankfully, the church hall was heated by four large fireplaces around the edges, behind the banks of seats. Chloe admired the beautiful candle arrangements in the suspended chandeliers and George reached out to see if a sprig of holly was still sharp. It was and he pulled his finger back quickly, putting it into his mouth and tasting a drop of blood.
“Ninny.” his sister whispered. George glared at her, pulled his other hand back and went to hit her arm but his strike was swiftly caught by his mother.
“Enough.” she spoke sharply, cutting the fight short. Now was not the time for nonsense. Now was the time for focus and best behaviour. Brother Thomas was there, greeting everyone in his traditional robes of white and green. Some of the other children involved in the show were sitting to one side and upon seeing them come in Brother Thomas signalled for Chloe and George to join them.
Chloe didn’t like sitting on the floor, the stone was cold and her knees always ached from sitting cross legged. George didn’t seem to mind, he plonked his bottom next to Anna Grevling and began to trace the words and patterns on the stones with his finger. Once everybody had set their gloves and hats to dry by the various fires they found their seats. The hubbub of the crowd settled down and Brother Thomas addressed the town.
“Friends, families, neighbours, welcome! The last of the visitors are gone, the leaves have all fallen and winter is once again with us. I’d ask you if it was still snowing out there but I think half of it might have just been brought into the hall!” There was a ripple of polite laughter. “But though the mountain may be cold, my heart is made warm by the sea of familiar faces before me. I’m not going to lie to you, it has not been an easy year.” George and Chloe looked up to the crowd and saw several solemn faces and nodding heads. Brother Thomas elaborated. “Our community has suffered tragedy.” Chloe saw Brother Thomas glance briefly at a middle aged woman. “And we’ve had loved ones move away.” he continued, smiling at the man and woman next to her. Chloe looked to her classmates and was reminded that they were missing two people. Kilde Vichas and Lilian Lausanne. No wonder the show felt so empty this year. George was secretly happy that Lilian had moved away, she would only have ruined the show. Brother Thomas shifted the mood, “But we have also had boons. Eva and Alex have recently welcomed a new little one into our community.” There was a small round of applause and murmurs of congratulations, “And who could forget the generosity of our visitors this summer?” The applause grew louder and even Chloe and George smiled at the shared good fortune. When the various in jokes and pats on the backs ceased Brother Thomas continued. “But tonight is not about the past. It is about our current predicament!” He said this with a wide smile on his face and the townsfolk all giggled and shot knowing looks at the younger members of the congregation. “Yes, friends we seem to be experiencing a spot of bother. Our good friend the sun has disappeared!” Some of the crowd gasped in mock horror, “Indeed! A real tragedy. However! All hope is not lost. Tonight marks one week until Lang Natt which means there is still time to convince the sun to come back to us! We do this of course by singing, dancing, telling stories and showing her that Benlunar is a place of love and warmth, filled with fun, friends and family. And! If we do well, which I have every confidence that we will, then the sun will be back to brighten our days in the spring. So! Friends, I have this favour to ask of you. Will you help me to show the sun what she is missing??” There was a loud cheer from the town. “Then I hereby declare the week of Lang Natt started!” An even louder cheer resounded around the hall and the small orchestra seated near the children began to play. This was Chloe and George’s cue to stand up and begin the show.
Their song and story went off without too many hitches. A few fluffed lines and a couple of wardrobe issues were the only real errors. This year the children were telling the tale of when Caroditte, the heroine, outsmarted Enoch, God of Chaos. Enoch had appeared to her in the form of a black heron and promised to end the plague in Caroditte’s village. Enoch of course was only pretending to be nice to distract everyone from his trickery. Caroditte agreed to his terms but only if she could watch him work his magic. With Caroditte following him closely at all times, he was unable to slip away and so the village was saved thanks to her patience and persistence. Chloe looked on with envious eyes at the girl who played Caroditte. She was two years older and had memorised all her lines in just three days. George was distracted by a tear in his costume which threatened to undermine his role as villager number three.
“Alas Caroditte, my three children are too sick to enjoy the Lang Natt bread you have so graciously given.” he said confidently when his time came to repeat the line. Chloe had no lines but she had the very important job of holding Enoch’s wings for whenever he appeared. She enjoyed the boos and jeers the puppet received each time it reared its ugly head. The piece ended with another song, the chorus of which was sung by everyone in the church. When it was finished the room clapped and cheered and celebrated the young storytellers and the triumph of cleverness over chaos.
Brother Thomas stepped forward once more and applauded his appreciation along with the rest of the crowd. Once the children of Benlunar had taken their seats on the stone floor again, he turned back to the audience, took a deep breath and looked as though he was about to say something. He was distracted, however, by movement and a small shuffling sound. The crowd followed his gaze to one of the entrances to the circle where a woman was walking into the empty space. Everyone in the town recognized her as Mrs Thoresan. She was the old lady who lived in the big house near the mountain path. A smattering of whispers and shrugs spread through the audience as she made her way slowly towards the centre of the hall. She was wearing a traditional Benlunar dress, beautifully crafted in dark blue and red colours with white flowers stitched along the hems and sleeves. She approached Brother Thomas with a kind smile on her face, took his hand in hers and patted it gently signifying her thanks and respect. Brother Thomas gave her a small bow in return and she gestured for him to take his seat which he graciously did. Mrs Thoresan then turned to bow to the children by way of thanks. Chloe and George flushed with embarrassment, they turned to each other, wide eyed and smiling. This acknowledgement from an elder was a great honour and its importance was not lost on any of the young performers. She then turned back to the crowd. Everyone was waiting with baited breath to hear what she had to say, but they would have to wait just a while longer as Mrs Thoresan raised her arms up to the sky, her fingers spread wide and closed her eyes. She remained motionless for a second, in silent meditation. Some people joined her in closing their eyes, breathing deeply and remaining still as was the way of the Nocta. George did not close his eyes. So he was amazed to witness the candles begin to dim and the hall darken as Mrs Thoresan slowly brought her hands down with a long exhalation of her breath. When the lights were low and the people were ready. She began her story.
“Where do shadows go when it is dark? During these long winter nights, we might ask ourselves such questions. Each year we tell the tale of the sleeping sun, how she must be roused from slumber and return to bring us brightness. But we have forgotten the whole story. There is another player in this pageant. We spoke of him when I was little but with every winter since his name was mentioned less and less. I can see on some of your faces that you know of whom I speak, although you may not remember his name for you were barely babes when it was spoken last. The dark emissary of the sun, the shadow man, Navnghast.”
A chill wind whistled around the hall, Chloe pulled her costume tightly around her shoulders. She didn’t like scary stories, and this was starting to feel like a scary story. Mrs Thoresan continued.
“Yes. I see that you remember now. You know that to ask that the sun return to us is selfish really. Why should she shine on us when we behave so irresponsibly in her light and heat. That is why when she disappears she sends Navnghast. He goes door to door under cover of darkness, of which he himself is made, taking names and passing judgement on those who have been bad. If you earn the light of the sun by being kind and showing virtue then he will pass by your door. You may even receive a little gift the morning after Lang Natt, if you are very lucky.” She winked at a little girl sitting in the audience who was gripping her mother’s skirt in fright. “But…” she turned quickly back to the crowd, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “if you are judged and found unworthy of the Sun’s light then Navnghast will put your name on his scroll, he will enter your home, he will find you sleeping and…” the audience collectively leaned forward so as to catch every word, “he will place something under your bed. And there it will sit for five long days, lest you upset him further and he takes you away. What is it? You ask, what will I dread to find beneath my bed? You can fight and you can wish but you cannot avoid the terrible, stinking… fish!” At that moment, Mrs Thoresan reached into her sleeve and pulled out a real fish. The crowd gasped and laughed in shock. The front row reeled back in mock terror as she brandished it at them and wriggled it in their faces. She laughed at their fear and the tension disappeared from the hall. Even the candles seemed to glow brighter. The Benlunar townsfolk clapped and cheered at the story, so expertly told. Many figured that Brother Thomas had been in on the joke the whole time and they swapped reactions and mock warnings with each other as they slowly left the church and headed home. Chloe and George teased each other mercilessly, each claiming that the other had been more scared of the story and its shadowy protagonist. Friends and neighbours waved goodbye as they carved paths to their front doors through the ever deepening snow. That night, Benlunar slept peacefully. Chloe and George wrapped themselves in wool blankets and drifted into dreamful slumber. Everyone in the town was blissfully ignorant of any strangeness happening in the night. And so it wasn’t until the next morning that every house in Benlunar discovered the fishes that had been nailed to their front doors.
In George and Chloe’s household it was their mother who found their fish first. It was a rather large, pink bellied salmon, kept fresh by the cold. It took her several tries to pull the nail out but eventually it came loose. She brought the fish in and plonked it onto the kitchen table with a wet slap. Like many other residents she simply assumed that some silly kids had played a trick on them. She even briefly considered that it might be her own twins that were responsible. But their expressions of genuine surprise at the sight of it told her that that couldn’t be true.
“Was it Navnghast??” asked George, prodding the fish’s eye with his finger.
“Of course not,” said his mother, slapping his hand away. “It will be the Borvild boys playing pranks.” George was not convinced. Chloe, the more curious of the two opened the front door and looked down their street. They lived in the eastern part of Benlunar, where the houses were squat and tightly packed together.
“They’re on all the doors Mama!” she squealed in delight. Their mother had been so distracted by their own fish, that she had failed to notice the others. George ran to look, gulped and whispered to himself:
“Navnghast.”
A town meeting was called that afternoon. Some people actually brought their fish to the Stave Church. Someone was sent to find Mrs Thoresan but she was not in her house. A group was put together to find her but after scouring the entire town, she was nowhere to be found. Some people were angry, as if this was some joke in poor taste meant to scare their children. Others thought it was funny, even if just for the impressiveness of the feat. Some took it very seriously indeed and vowed to keep their fish under their beds for the next five nights, for fear of further retribution from some fabled bogeyman. Brother Thomas was expected to provide people with answers but even the Stave Church had had a minnow pinned to its door and he was just as confused as everyone else. One thing was agreed upon by all, the telling of the Navnghast story and the appearance of the fish was not a coincidence.
The children of Benlunar held their own meeting at the same time, although theirs had a very different atmosphere to it. Packed in like sardines, if you’ll excuse the phrase, into Eddy Vakker’s treehouse, a group of seven young friends heatedly discussed their theories.
“I think it was Mrs Thoresan.” said Ben.
“Don’t be silly,” rebuked his younger sister Kara, “She’s too old! She would have frozen to death after the first ten fishes.”
“I think it was my Dad. He goes fishing all the time.” said little Tim as he chewed on a liquorice root.
“Yes but he doesn’t have anywhere to store a hundred fish does he?” asked George.
“No. We have an attic. It’s dark up there.”
“What if…” interrupted Chloe, “It WAS Mrs Thoresan, but she didn’t do it herself?” This suggestion gave the group pause.
“What do you mean?” asked Sara Smorkopp, the eldest of the group and the heroine in last night’s show.
“Well, we all know that Mrs Thoresan is magic.” The group nodded, this was common knowledge in the Benlunar playground.
“She’s a witch!” Tim squealed in delight.
“But a good one.” said Ben to more nods and affirmative mumbles. Chloe continued with her theory:
“So what if she worked with someone, or something, to make sure Benlunar got taught a lesson.” The group did not want to speak the name that was on the tip of their tongues. It was George who braved the words first:
“Do you mean… Navnghast?”
“Maybe.” said Chloe. “Or some other spirits or even... demons.” The liquorice stick fell out of Tim’s mouth.
“It doesn’t make sense.” said Eddy, petulantly. “Mrs Thoresan said that Navnghast gives people fish if they’ve been bad. But every house in Benlunar got one. They can’t all be bad can they?” The children thought a while. Chloe and George swapped concerned looks. Sara Smorkopp pulled her periwinkle blue shawl over her blonde hair and spoke resolutely.
“If we’re going to know who's responsible then that’s what we have to find out. What has Benlunar done to have received this judgement.” The group split into teams. Ben and Kara were tasked with finding Mrs Thoresan and asking her about Navnghast. Tim and Eddy were to speak to Tim’s father and find out where all the fish could have come from. Chloe, George and Sara were to interview the residents of Benlunar and come up with reasons why the town had been judged by Navnghast. They all agreed to meet back at the tree house just before sun down to discuss their findings.
“Who do you think we should ask first?” enquired George as he and the two girls trudged through the snow to the centre of town. The sky was still cloudy but thankfully it had stopped snowing. Even so, the three of them pulled their thick coats tight to stave off the cold. The sleepy sun was low in the sky, a bright white circle in the clouds barely illuminating the path ahead.
“I’m not sure.” admitted Sara who was confidently carving a path for the smaller siblings. Chloe was about to suggest a few names when she saw someone up ahead. It was a young woman who she did not recognise. She was walking very slowly through the snow, carrying something round and pink. Occasionally she would slip and scream and throw her free arm up in the air to redress her balance.
“Who is that?” whispered Chloe. Her brother and Sara shrugged. As they drew closer, George squinted and stared at the struggling lady.
“Is she carrying a pig?” Chloe looked back at her and saw that the pink thing under her arm was indeed a little pig. It was wearing a comical little red coat and its nose had a small icicle hanging off the end of it. It was obvious to the kids why the lady was carrying it; if it was allowed to walk on the ground it would have been swallowed by the snow.
“Are you alright Miss?” asked Sara as they approached.
“Oh! Hello. Um, yes I think so. This path is quite slippery isn’t it?” She took a few shaky steps towards them and checked her pig to see if it was still safe.
“You need some hobnails.” said George.
“Some what?” George and Chloe lifted their feet to show the woman the soles of their boots. They were studded with little spikes that made navigating the snow much easier.
“Well look at that.” said the woman, her cheeks were flushed red from the effort of walking.
“What are you three doing out in the snow? You’ll catch a chill if you’re not careful.”
“We’re asking people about the fish on their doors.” said Chloe.
“We’re trying to find out why Benlunar has been bad.” George added, bluntly.
“But we’re not sure where to start.” admitted Sara.
The woman considered their reason.
“Yes it is strange isn’t it? I’m afraid I don’t know, I’m still quite new to Benlunar you see.” The children weren’t going to say anything, but that much had been obvious from her lack of skill in navigating the snow. “But I suppose if I was you,” she continued, “I would start at the heart of the town.” George screwed up his face in thought.
“Oh!” Chloe gasped in sudden realisation, “The Fox & Octopus!”
“Yes!” agreed Sara. They looked back at the woman and her little pig to see her smiling.
“That was my thinking.” she said. The children thanked her for the inspiration and walked past her, each scratching her pig’s chin or patting his head as they passed by.
“By the way,” she called out to them as they walked away, “Where can I get some of those boots?”
The Fox & Octopus was Benlunar’s primary drinking establishment. Rain or shine, snow or no its doors were open to weary travellers and locals alike. It was still morning so the main room was empty. The inn’s owners, Xander and Liny were busy installing a large barrel behind the bar. The empty one lay to one side, ready to go back down into the cellar for the winter. The three children stomped the snow off their boots as they crossed the threshold. The sound distracted Xander momentarily and the barrel nearly slipped from his grasp.
“Watch out!” shouted Liny.
“Sorry sorry! Be right with you kids!” The young ones happily installed themselves next to the burning fire, taking off their boots and warming their socks on the crackling heat. A large moose’s head, mounted on the wall, stared down at them from above the hearth. George admired its antlers, each one was bigger than his leg.
“How can we help?” asked Xander, smiling politely at the three friends, “can I get you a drink? Some Blackberry fire perhaps?” George smiled and was about to agree to the recommendation but Sara cut him off.
“I’m afraid we’re here on important business Mr Xander.”
“Oh… I see. Well how can I help then?” Liny came over, intrigued by the young girl’s official sounding tone.
“You have many patrons in this establishment every night do you not?”
“We close early on Mondays,” confirmed Liny, “but, yes, I suppose we do.”
“We were wondering,” said Chloe, her feet dangling off the edge of the soft armchair, “if you’ve heard or seen anything that might explain why everyone received a fish this morning?” The couple looked at each other, earnest and confused expressions on their faces. Xander turned back to the little girl,
“What do you mean exactly?” It was George who replied,
“Why would a spirit think Benlunar has been bad?” This seemed to make more sense to Xander who leaned back with his hands on his hips and considered the question.
“I suppose,” he said looking at his wife for affirmation, “that it would all depend on whose perspective you were looking at.” The children swapped excited looks,
“Perspective?” Sara parroted.
“Oh yes,” said Liny, “You see, what might be good for one is not necessarily good for another. The wolves are happy to find a lonely deer in the woods, but is the deer happy to be found by the wolves?” The flames were reflecting in her eyes, giving them a strangely menacing glow. George felt a shiver run down his spine, despite the heat of the fire. He glanced up to the moose, wondering if it had been happy to spy the hunter.
“So you’re saying that someone, or something, might be upset by something good that Benlunar has done?” asked Sara.
“It’s possible.” Xander crossed his arms in thought, “I certainly can’t think of anything evil that the town has done on purpose.”
“Can I just ask?” Liny spoke up and the children turned to look at her, “Who do you think was responsible for the fish.” George, Chloe and Sara all looked at each other. They were nervous to give their theory, for fear of sounding silly. It was Chloe who put it best,
“We were remembering Mrs Thoresan’s story about the demon who puts fish under the beds of bad people…” she trailed off, leaving the inn’s owners to fill in the rest. They both nodded in understanding.
“Well,” said Liny, clapping her hands together, “if that story has brought you here, then I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place.”
“Why?” asked George.
“Because we don’t deal in those kinds of spirits.”
The door of the Stave Church loomed tall and dark. Sara knocked on it hard with the base of her fist. The old wood shook on its hinges, sending a booming echo into the depths of the building. George picked his nose while they waited for a response. Chloe studied the intricate carvings of frogs that adorned the doors. Her favourite was a rather fat looking one with funny eyes on the bottom left.
“Maybe they’re out?” she suggested, but as soon as she stopped speaking the latch on the other side sounded and the doors opened revealing Brother Ulnar. At first he looked right above their heads in confusion, not seeing the three of them standing beneath him. But then he noticed them,
“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Good morning young ones.”
“Hello Brother.” said Sara, “may we come in? We have some questions for you and your brother.” Brother Ulnar stepped to one side and shut the door behind them. He led them down the entrance and into the main hall, muttering to himself as he went.
“Questions for the brothers. Well the brothers have questions, the books have the answers to most questions. But what if we question the books? Therein lies the path of the brothers hm?” Chloe didn’t realise that he was directing the question at her.
“Oh. Um, yes.” she said, unsure of how else to respond. Brother Ulnar brought the three of them to the church library, the door to which was at the back of the hall, near the entrance to the brother’s communal space. The door to the library was painted red and was slightly ajar. Sara had been in here before but it was George and Chloe’s first time inside. Chloe’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Brother Ulnar pushed the door open to reveal a room nearly as tall as the central hall. Every wall was lined with shelves and on these shelves were hundreds and hundreds of books. Some of the shelves had broken under the weight of them. The colourful covers made the room look like it was mosaiced in bright bricks. It was warm in here, with a small fire burning brightly at the far end. A large armchair sat facing the flames. It was positioned on a well cleaned stone floor quite a distance from the fireplace. The fire itself was behind two layers of protective metal screens, extra precautions were necessary here considering the precious contents of the room. Nestled inside the armchair, covered in a patchwork blanket, reading a large book was Brother Thomas.
“Some young ones with questions brother.” said Brother Ulnar by way of introduction.
“Ah! Hello! Thank you Brother, I’ll be happy to answer their questions.” He stood up and bade the children to fetch chairs and stools so that they could all sit together. Once they were all comfortable Brother Ulnar shuffled off and the children explained their mission to Brother Thomas who smiled in understanding.
“I’ve been wondering exactly the same thing! I came in here to see if I could find any stories about this Navnghast character.” He gestured to a small pile of books lying on a table nearby, “I’ve found some mentions of the name but this is the oldest book I’ve found so far with the whole story.” The children looked at each other excitedly. George secretly hoped that they wouldn’t have to hear the story again, once had been enough.
“Can I see it?” asked Chloe.
“Yes of course, but please be careful, the parchment is extremely old.” Chloe took the book from him and Sara and George moved their chairs closer to hers. It had a black cover, tarnished by mold and damp and its corners were worn away. The pages within were in decent condition but they were yellow and brittle. Chloe could feel how fragile they were as she brushed her fingers over them. She read the title out loud.
“Northern Stories: A transcription of oral traditions from the mountains and valleys.”
“It doesn’t say who did the actual transcribing,” said Brother Thomas, “but Navnghast appears here.” He carefully turned the pages, revealing beautiful maps, illustrations of animals, starry skies and margins filled with little tadpoles. The curly cursive text filled the pages but Chloe could only read the occasional word. When Brother Thomas finally found the chapter he was looking for the pages were suspiciously void of pictures. The story started just like the others but it took several turns of the page to reveal the first and only illustration. Chloe nearly gasped at the site of it.
Staring back at her from the page was a dark and terrible figure. It had sad yellow eyes that stared painfully out of mottled skin. It was ancient, and it looked tired of being alive. On its back it carried a large hessian sack which it gripped between twiggy fingers. Its large dirty robe covered a pot belly and spindly legs stuck out from the bottom.
“Is that…?” George couldn’t finish the question.
“It is.” Confirmed Brother Thomas, “see, his name is here and here. The language is old but I have some experience reading it.” The group stared at the picture for some time.
“What is that beside his feet?” Sara pointed to a collection of brown and black boxes at the bottom of the page.
“I believe they are the houses he visits in the story.”
“Houses!?” shouted Chloe, “But they’re tiny.” The comment hung in the air while the children came to terms with what it meant.
“Brother Thomas,” Sara spoke with a tremble in her voice, “Does the story say anything about why he gives people fish?” Brother Thomas took the book back and turned the pages, trying to find a particular passage.
“This story is similar to the one told last night. It says it somewhere…” He ran his finger down a page until a word caught his eye. “Ah! Here we are. ‘And Navnghas gaiv them pesc,’ that’s an old word for fish, ‘and tol them to kaep it for five moons. For they haed don dark deeds and were thusly wharned.’ I’m afraid that’s all it says.”
George sighed, “Dark deeds could mean anything.” Brother Thomas shut the book slowly, making sure that none of the pages were caught in the folding.
“I always thought that the fish was a symbol, a representation of punishment or penance. It says that the people who get a fish must keep it for five days to atone for these dark deeds, whatever they may be. Now fish notoriously goes off quite quickly and to keep it under your bed for even one day would be tough enough, don’t you think?” The young ones smiled at the thought. “The story is mainly about how he was born,” Brother Thomas continued, “about how he was a greedy prince who gathered riches from his people and pretended to give them to the sun so that it would continue to shine, but in truth he kept the gold for himself. The sun punishes the people for believing the prince by disappearing for five days and she takes the prince with her and traps him in servitude. He is forced to judge the people every winter to see if they are worthy of the sun’s return. The bit about the fish is quite near the end and is generally considered, among the church, to be a symbol for time running out. It certainly was never thought to be a literal fish.” The children considered this.
“So if you don’t fix the problem after five days,” asked Chloe, “What happens?” Brother Thomas’ expression grew serious.
“I believe that is what the sack is for.”
The church doors shut behind them and Sara and the twins were once again out in the cold, fresh air. The sun was gone but the sky still kept a little light. The night would be upon them soon and with it, a deadly cold.
“So if we don’t find out what’s going on and fix it within five days,” said George, “We’re all going to end up in a sack??” Chloe would normally have laughed at her brother’s exaggeration, but the situation was just too serious.
“Let’s get back to the tree house,” said Sara, “maybe the others have found something.”
Tim, Eddy, Kara and Ben were already back at the treehouse, excitedly discussing their findings. George was last to poke his head up through the floor. He grabbed one of the blankets that Kara had brought with her and huddled around the three candles. They knew they could not stay out for long, but plans were plans and their findings begged to be shared. Ben and Kara unfortunately had no luck in finding Mrs Thoresan but they did manage to speak to her butler, Mr Stepson. Apparently he said that Mrs Thoresan often went missing and that she would be back in a few nights.
“Where does she go?” asked Chloe.
“He wasn’t sure.” said Kara, “Sometimes she stays with friends, sometimes she just disappears.”
“Once he said that he found her by the Padda Stone in the middle of the night.” said Ben.
“She’s a witch!” George exclaimed. And all nodded in agreement. Tim and Eddy had had more luck in their quest. Apparently, Tim’s father said that there was only one place near Benlunar that so much fresh fish could be caught at once.
“He calls it Lake Sitron and he says it’s filled with fish of all kinds,” Tim explained, his nose red and running, “but he says it’s an hour away from town.”
“And!” added Eddy, “he also said that it freezes over in the winter, so fishing is really hard.” The group thought on this information for a second.
“I still think it would be worth going to see it,” said Sara, “We might find something useful, a clue or something.” The rest of the group agreed and Sara went on to explain what they had found at the Stave Church library. She described the story and the picture of Navnghast in great detail, not forgetting to mention that their mission now had a time limit of five, no four days. The group then swapped theories and ideas as to what the ‘dark deeds’ might be. They had some good ideas, but nothing seemed quite right. Benlunar was quite a small town, so anything that the community did all together would be common knowledge and the children couldn’t think of anything that might be considered dark or evil in any way. They resolved to meet in the morning at first light on the edge of town with enough food packed for the day so that they could go and explore the lake.
“Right, we should probably go home, mum will be wondering… oh dear.” Chloe was in the middle of warning the others about the late hour when she glanced outside. The group had been so caught up in the adventure, they had failed to see the night creep into the sky and fall silently over the mountain. Chloe let out a long breath, a cloud of vapour escaped from her mouth and it glowed orange from the candle light, making her look like a very worried dragon.
“Crumbs!” shouted Kara, “I need to be home. Mum doesn’t like it when I’m out after dark.” The group scrambled to get up and leave the confines of the suspended wooden hut. Sara blew out the candles, only to light them again as the cloud covered sky had plunged Benlunar into a thick, inky darkness. They divided the candles between them and held them aloft like torches to guide them home through the snow.
And so they picked their way through the frozen streets. The candles were small and their golden glow barely went ten feet before being overwhelmed by the oppressive blackness. Tim’s house was found first, then Kara and Ben’s place was only round the corner. Sara and Eddy found their homes soon after which meant that Chloe and George had to take the main road, two left turns and then only twenty feet until they were back home. The first leg was fine, the roads were quiet and their candle still had plenty of wax to last them the journey.
“My fingers are going numb.” said George.
“Not much further.” his sister reassured him, even though she knew exactly how he was feeling. They were both wearing sheepskin mittens, but the cold did not care. A few flecks of snow started to fall about them. After the first left turn and with the warm hearth of home not far ahead, Chloe stopped her brother.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I thought I saw something.”
“We can check in the morning Chlo, come on I’m hungry and freez…”
“Wait!” she stepped back a few feet, holding her candle low to the floor to illuminate the settled snow. George’s stomach urged him to hurry her.
“It’s nothing. Now come on, it’s creepy out here.”
“There!” George, his curiosity getting the better of him, retraced his steps and stared at the spot where his sister was pointing.
“What… what is it?”
“Can’t you see?” his sister traced the shape stamped in the snow in the air with her finger.
“It’s a footprint.”
“But…” George’s voice shook with cold and fear, “It’s so big.”
The next morning the seven friends met near the river path. Each one carried a small pack, filled with sandwiches, dried meat or cheese. The snow had frozen and hardened over night, making the pathways a little more treacherous than normal, but nothing a good hobnailed boot couldn’t handle. Chloe described the footprint they’d found the night before.
“It looked like a foot, a barefoot, only it was big, about your height Kara.” Kara looked down at her body, her face the picture of shock. The group considered going to see the footprint and maybe even seeing where it led, but more snow had fallen during the night and any trace would have been long gone. Not wishing to lose any more time, they set off on their journey to find Lake Citron.
Following the river was not too difficult, Tim’s father had advised they stick close to it if they wished to find the lake. They sang songs and told jokes as they picked their way through the winter wood. It was like walking through a painting. Sunlight streaked in golden lines through the snow capped canopy. The river babbled pleasantly by their side as if eagerly joining in their conversations. Tiny icicles clung to banks and branches. Every now and then one of them would slip and the rest would laugh and go to help, wiping wet leaves from soggy bottoms. It was a journey whose beauty could only be truly appreciated through the eyes of an older self, many years after the fact.
They made good time. After an hour or so the river began to widen and they had trouble keeping up with the sticks they threw into it. The happy babble quickly grew to a raucous roaring and after cresting a small hill up ahead Sara turned around to shout something back to her friends.
“There it is! We found the lake!” The rest of them ran to catch up with her. The trees thinned and the view opened onto a large empty space surrounded by steep, rocky mountain sides. At first it looked as though there was just a field covered in snow, but it was too flat and too perfectly settled to be anything other than a frozen lake. The troupe made their ways slowly down the hill, the river they had been following had turned sharply left some way back and they could see where it fed into the lake further down the shore. The water moved too much to freeze at the mouth making it look like it was disappearing underground beneath the frozen floor. George paused his descent to look further down the coast, he spotted other rivers feeding the lake as well, two, three and even a fourth quite some distance away.
“It’s very pretty.” said Ben as they approached the stony shoreline. The rest of them nodded in silent agreement. Nothing stood immediately out to them as strange or out of place, so they resolved to eat their packed lunches and discuss the various findings. The sounds of water and chewing as well as the occasional bird filled the silences.
“If the footprint was made yesterday,” Eddy wondered aloud, “then does that mean Navnghast came back?”
“What do you mean?” asked Chloe.
“Well, if he gave everyone a fish the night before, then his prints would have been covered by the snow. So since you found a footprint last night that means he must have come back no?” The group chewed over the notion. It seemed to make sense.
“I suppose so.” said Ben.
“Strange to think that he was in town while we were in the treehouse.” said Tim in a low and shy voice. The others didn’t want to think too much about that.
“Hang on,” Chloe realised something, “if he came back to Benlunar last night, does that mean he’s going to come back tonight as well??” Everyone let out a small sound somewhere between fear and excitement.
“We can set up a watch!” suggested Kara.
“We’ll get torches instead of candles.” added Ben.
“No no no, we shouldn’t have any light! He might see it and run away.” suggested George.
“How are we going to see him if it’s dark?” chided his sister.
“Oh yeah.”
“Listen,” Sara, always the voice of reason for the group, interjected, “let’s take it one investigation at a time. We came all the way here, we should at least look for evidence of a boat or something.” They packed away their lunches, Ben was still eating so he hurriedly tried to finish so that he could join the hunt. His mother had packed him a small slice of cake and it was just too delicious to rush.
Eddy was the first to suggest stepping out onto the ice.
“Absolutely not!” said Sara, “if you fall through you’ll catch a chill and I’m not carrying you home on my back.” Sara was adamant, but Eddy was persuasive.
“Don’t fret Sara. Look, I can see the stones under the ice here, even if it did break I’d only get a wet foot.” Sara went to stop him but he was already taking his first tentative step. “See? He turned back to show his progress off to the others, it’s fine!” He was quickly joined by the boys, Ben and Tim and then after seeing that it appeared to be safe the girls hopped onto the frozen surface. They all leaned on each other for safety slipping and giggling as they went. Sara made sure that no one went too far out.
“The last thing I want is to turn around and see you fall in okay? I’m the oldest so you have to listen to me.” They grumbled their consent and went back to exploring the icy surface. It was fun to scrape away the thin layer of snow and peek into the hidden water world below. Occasionally, someone would spy a fish and all would rush over to look. It was while they were admiring a particularly large swimmer that Sara heard George cry out.
“Oh!” she heard and she whipped around, worried. George was fine, but he lifted his right boot up to show the rest of the group. Water dripped off the end of it.
“There’s a hole here!” He exclaimed in curious delight.
“Careful George.” said Chloe.
“I’m fine, come and see though.” he gestured to where his foot had fallen through the ice. The others tiptoed and slid over to join him.
“It might be a crack, so be ready to run.” Warned Sara, ever watchful.
“It’s not a crack,” said Kara, “It’s a hole, a perfectly round hole.” The rest of the group caught up and confirmed the find. It was just as Kara said. There in the ice was a perfectly cut, smooth edged hole, too perfect to have been made by some falling rock or emerging creature. The depth of the snow surrounding it had hidden it from their view until now. It was brilliant and dark, like a rabbit’s eye staring out of a white winter coat.
“There’s another one over here!” George had already moved on and discovered another. This hole was of a similar size and only a few steps away from the first one. Tim had his eye fixed on the first hole and wondered how it had been made, or even why. Suddenly, the slim wriggly body of a fish swam across his view and the idea came to him.
“They’re fishing holes!” he shouted.
“Here’s another one!” Ben shouted again, a little further onto the ice. Suddenly, the hunt was on. Four more were found quickly, but then five, six and then seven made themselves known. After half an hour’s hunt they had found thirty-six fishing holes and if they had wanted to keep hunting, they were sure they might have found even more. The reason the hunt stopped was because Kara was complaining of being cold and the group realised that they should probably be heading home soon. Ben, Tim, George, Eddy, Chloe and Sara were still absent mindedly keeping an eye out for more fishing holes as they traced their way back to the stony shore. Kara was bored of that game however so she turned her eyes back to the shoreline.
“Doggy!” she squealed in delight. Kara loved dogs, maybe even more than she loved cats. The rest of the group looked up ahead to see what she meant. There, waiting for them on the beach where they had had their lunch was a rather large, grey dog. And then another dog appeared out of the treeline and came to join it.
“Two dogs!” shouted Kara. Two dogs were even better than one. But then, there were three dogs. Four, five, six… seven… eight.
“Kara,” Sara whispered loudly, “come here please. Come back to us now.” Kara turned round to see that her friends were huddled in a group some distance behind her. They looked scared for some reason. Kara turned back and counted two more dogs, a whole pack! And then she realised why her friends were scared.
“Sara…”
“Just come here slowly.” Kara turned back to look at the dogs, no, the wolves that were edging ever closer to the ice. She took a step back towards her friends just as she watched the largest wolf put a paw on the ice. She began to walk backwards, checking her footing occasionally but not daring to turn her back on the pack. The animals ahead of her were uncertain about traversing the ice and Kara was nearly with her friends before the first wolf was fully standing on the surface.
“Watch your step!” Kara heard George’s voice behind her. She glanced down and twisted her weight just in time to avoid stepping into a fishing hole. She quickly glanced back up to see two more wolves had joined the alpha on the frozen water. They were clearly unsure about the ice, but desperate enough to risk it. One of them even licked its lips in gruesome anticipation. Kara felt a hand grip her arm and she was pulled back into the group’s embrace.
“What do we do now?” said Eddy in as steady a voice as he could manage. Chloe took her eyes of the wolves and glanced around. She looked at the footprints they had left in the snow and she saw how they had left a zigzag pattern around the various fishing holes that they’d found. An idea was forming in her head.
“Look, over there,” she said, pointing to the mouth of the river, there was an outcrop of rock accessible through the maze of fishing holes. “If we run that way and dodge around the holes, we should be able to reach the rocks before they catch us.”
“But that would mean going towards them Chloe,” protested George, “shouldn't we run backwards, across the lake?”
“No.” Chloe cut him off, confidently, “we don’t know where the other fishing holes are behind us, we can go around those ones if we follow our footsteps. We’ll have to swing round to the right. But if we go now then they’ll just head us off.”
“We have to wait.” said Sara.
“Yes. Just until they’re about… there.” Chloe pointed to one of the fishing holes they had discovered, it was roughly halfway between them and the pack.
Chloe breathed out slowly. She could feel her heartbeat beating out the seconds, measuring the footsteps of the largest wolf. She glanced down at Tim and Kara, hoping upon hope that they could keep up with the older kids.
“Just a few more steps.” she whispered.
“We should run now.” said Ben.
“Not yet.” argued Chloe. She could see Ben’s hand nervously shaking, playing with the toggles of his oversized coat. Chloe turned back to the wolves. Just a few more steps.
“NOW!” she shouted and they began to run. They had spent a while on the ice now so they were familiar with how to move, thankfully, the wolves were new to the feeling. As soon as they broke into a run, the wolves followed suit. A few of them slipped and slid, their claws unsuited for running on this surface. Chloe sprinted ahead choosing her path carefully. It was not the most direct route, instead she wound round the holes hoping to trick the animals behind them. Occasionally she would glance back, she saw one wolf lose its footing and fall into a hole just as she’d planned. Its chin hit the ice with an audible thunk. They were nearly at the outcrop now, Chloe knew that they needed height as well as distance between them and the wolves. The mouth of the river was a stone’s throw away now. Kara squealed and Chloe turned to see the pack leader snap at her heels, slipping sideways and stumbling as he did. Just a little further, she thought.
And then she heard the first crack.
“What was that?” shouted Eddy, breathless and terrified.
“Just keep going.” Chloe needed them to ignore it and push forward. A second crack sounded, louder than the first. The ice was thin here and was having difficulty holding steady under heavy, concentrated footfall. The third crack visibly split the snow to the left, the ice sheet pinged as the impact echoed across the floor. Chloe jumped for the rock and found steady footing. She turned quickly to help the others. The lead wolf had thankfully slipped and was still getting to its feet as Kara finally found the rock and clutched at Chloe’s outstretched hand.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes. I think so.” Kara replied and the group let out a brief sigh of relief. The wolves were finding their footing and scouting a way towards them.
“Keep going!” Sara shouted and turned to scramble up the rock surface slope. Chloe went to join her, but noticed her brother turn to the right.
“George! Come on.” she chided but then she saw his thinking. Using all his remaining strength, George Bergren lifted a small boulder, roughly the size of his own head, up above himself and hurled it at the ice. All children and wolves alike watched it sail through the air. It hit the ice with a wet crunch and went straight through into the water beneath. The wolves watched the cracks appear like a spider web from the point of impact. Chloe knew they needed to run but she couldn’t help feeling a small sense of satisfaction at watching the lead wolf lose its footing and plunge into the icy water.
Twenty minutes later, the children were well on their way back up the mountain. The shock of the chase was still close, and they were all out of breath. Little wet clouds of heavy breath caught the light of the sunset behind them as they walked up and up towards home.
“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.” Said Ben.
“That was scarier than Navnghast.” added Eddy.
“That was scarier than getting home after dark and being shouted at.” said Tim. There were no arguments, only further comparisons.
“That was scarier than having to remember lines in the play.” said Sara. They all laughed in agreement.
“That was scarier than…” Chloe began but her thought was interrupted by the sight of a figure walking down the river bank towards them, “Mrs Thoresan?” she said.
“Oof, I don’t know about that.” said George.
“No, look!” urged his sister, “she’s there.” The group followed her pointing finger and saw the old woman. They stopped, half out of shock, half out of deference for their elder. The older woman spotted them and smiled. Her eyes closed sweetly as the corners of her mouth curled upwards. The children expected her to say something, but instead she stopped about ten steps ahead of them and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and began to twist her hands through strange shapes. The young ones watched enraptured as she waved her arms in front of her like she was testing feeling fine silk between her fingers. George was about to ask the others what she was doing when they heard a sound behind them. It sounded like the crack of a twig or the rustle of a leaf. They all whipped round and gasped in shock and terror as they caught sight of the largest wolf, still wet from the water, only a few feet away from them. Kara screamed and the wolf ran two or three steps forward before leaping into the air, its jaws open wide, fangs bared and ready for the bite. Chloe thought in that brief moment that all was lost and that they would be dinner for the pack, but then the snow moved. A patch of it between them and the wolf began to shake and shiver. Suddenly, as the wolf was jumping over it, the snow shot upwards, taking the shape of a giant hand. The wolf yelped as the icy fingers closed around its body as quick as a flash of lightning. The snow hand shivered as it tightened and then quickly became hard as ice, freezing the wolf in place. The children turned slowly around to look back at Mrs Thoresan.
“She’s a witch.” whispered George, only half under his breath. They watched her reach into a small pack on her side and pull something out that was wrapped in wax cloth. She unwrapped it slowly, the snuffling and grunting sounds of the struggling wolf behind them underscored the process. The wax cloth opened to reveal large slabs of red meat which Mrs Thoresan proceeded to place gently on the floor by her feet.
“They get hungry in the winter. This stops them from eating our sheep.” she said, “We should get going though, the ice will not hold for long. Come bairns, I’ll walk you back to Benlunar.” The seven friends went with her then. Kara took the old lady’s hand as she walked, feeling instantly safe by its tight grip and warmth.
The next day was the third since the fish had appeared in Benlunar. Some of the houses that had decided to keep their fishes, were starting to smell. No one had worked out exactly why the fishes had appeared yet, but at least the children knew where they had come from.
“I can’t imagine a demon needing to make fishing holes.” Eddy was speaking with his mouthful of Lang Natt bread, a traditional sugary bake that Benlunar folk enjoyed around this time of year. They were all sitting on the comfy chairs in the Fox & Octopus enjoying warm milk and honey with their breakfast.
“So what?” asked Chloe, “you think people got all those fish from the lake?” Eddy nodded in response, a splodge of blackcurrant jam staining his chin.
“Who though?” asked George. Eddy shrugged.
“I dunno, people.” he gestured around as if to signify anyone and everyone in Benlunar. The others thought on this, it did make sense. Although it would point towards evidence of a large and very well organised operation. Somehow, the work of a demon still seemed more plausible.
“And what about the footprint?” asked Ben, “We still don’t know what made that.” They all fell silent again. They had set out to find answers, but all they had were more questions.
“I have an idea.” Chloe spoke up. She had been staring into the crackling fire, barely listening to the others as they spoke. She turned to them now and shared her thoughts, “Remember how we said we could set up a watch and try and see if Navnghast comes back to Benlunar? Well I think we should do that tonight.” The others had not forgotten the conversation. They had been too tired to do anything about it last night, but after their experience with the wolves staying up late to hunt a demon seemed easy enough.
“We only have two days unti Lang Natt,” Chloe reminded them, “We can read books and find as many fishing holes as we like, but if we’re going to save Benlunar then we need to find the culprit.” George was impressed by his sister’s confidence. He wasn’t sure he would have been brave enough to suggest the hunt himself.
“What are we going to do if we see him?” George asked his sister. She turned to him with a strange and mischievous sparkle in her eye.
“We’re going to ask him a few questions.”
“What are you all doing?” A voice from the door of the inn drew their attention. Three boys were standing silhouetted against the sunlight. Chloe recognised them but only knew the name of the boy in the middle, the one who had spoken, Villem Kirk.
“Get out of here Villem.” Sara stood up and tried to shoo the three boys away. “We’re busy and you’ll only ruin everything.” Villem, who had a bit of a reputation for causing trouble, looked hurt. They closed the door behind them and approached, ignoring Sara’s command.
“You’re investigating the fish aren’t you?” The seven friends looked at each other, unsure whether to trust the boy with their secret plans. He was tall, and had brown, curly hair. His knees were permanently scraped or wet from fighting and his clothes were a few sizes too big, clearly cast offs from his older brothers he had yet to grow into. His two friends both had round faces and short, red hair. They looked similar enough to be brothers. “It’s okay.” Villem continued, “We’re doing the same thing.” Sara shot Chloe a suspicious look. Was this some kind of mean-boy plot meant to poke fun at them? Eddy, still naive to the games of older boys, broke the silence,
“What have you found?” Villem gave him a smirk and looked around to his friends.
“We’ll tell you what we know, if you tell us what you know.” The offer hung in the air. Could the seven friends risk the bargain? What if these boys didn’t know anything and they gave up their secrets for nothing? Surely they couldn’t know about the fishing holes and the lake? Chloe considered declining the offer but then realised something important,
“Yes. Okay.” Her team turned to look at her in shock as if she had betrayed all their hard work. Chloe continued, “I think we should work together. We have a plan and we could use some help.” Villem smiled a big grin, it looked genuine and void of treachery.
“Great!” He said, “We’ve actually just bumped into some girls who are doing the same thing.” The three newcomers came to sit beside them on the soft fireside chairs. Everyone leaned in to swap stories and theories. The four girls they’d spoken to had apparently found the giant footprints and the boys had also spoken to Brother Thomas and read the ancient book. On top of that they had spoken to Ortan, the town trapper, and he’d given them some insights into the story of the Prince. He apparently said that the prince was not just guilty of telling lies and being greedy, but of other evils as well. He double crossed his friends, he was lazy and he stole money from his family. Chloe told them of the fishing holes they’d found in the frozen lake and their adventure with the wolves. Her friends chipped in with the occasional missed detail. The boy’s faces were the picture of suspense and when the time came to describe Mrs Thoresan’s magic they could barely believe their ears. Finally, George described the plan to meet that night and confront Navnghast. Villem and the two brothers, Michael and Jamie, nodded solemnly and agreed to join in. They would alert the other children of Benlunar and together, they would confront the vengeful spirit.
Chloe and George were the first to arrive in the Benlunar town square. They had convinced their parents that they had wished to go to bed early that night and they had even shaped pillows under their covers as an added precaution. Then it was just a matter of slipping out of the window and dropping into the snow drift below. They hopped from one leg to another and shook their arms to keep warm. The Stave Church, usually so grand and welcoming instead loomed over them like the dark giant they were meant to be hunting. Sara Smorkopp approached them through the gloom holding a small candle to guide her. Chloe thought she looked like a sprite or Will o’ the wisp, floating through darkness to guide men to their doom. She waved at them and they exchanged bedroom escape stories until the others joined them. It took about fifteen minutes for everyone to arrive. On top of the seven friends who’d visited the lake the day before, there were the three boys they’d met at the inn as well as four girls from the north part of town. After them, five more children arrived who had apparently also been investigating the Navnghast mystery. Nineteen children in total. After a brief round of introductions Villem asked the question that was on the tip of everyone’s tongue,
“So what’s the plan?” Chloe and George had actually been discussing this earlier that evening and so when no one offered a plan of their own, Chloe spoke up.
“I think we should split into groups. Each group should station themselves at a road leading out of this square. If anyone sees or hears something strange they should light a candle, then the rest of us should run towards the light.” Nobody disagreed with the plan and everyone quickly split into eight smaller groups.
“Make sure every group has a mix of younger and older people,” added George, “We don’t want young ones left alone.” A quick reshuffling and the teams were cemented. Thankfully, the sky was only partly cloudy so all of this could be organised by the lights of one or two candles. Chloe thought she would be more scared than she really felt. Everybody’s face glowed with excitement and eagerness.
“So if we see something and we all meet,” a girl with dark eyes and hair called Vanda was speaking up, “What do we do then?” Chloe had expected the question.
“We’ll figure that out when something happens I think. Benlunar has clearly been warned of something, this spirit is telling us to fix it but we don’t know what it is we need to fix. So if we see it tonight, that’s what we’re going to find out. Okay?” Everyone looked at each other and nodded. Their streets were assigned, their candles extinguished. They were ready.
Chloe and George were in a team with Eddy and Tim. They made their way across the square to their assigned street , the snow crunching and groaning under their feet.Theirs was the mountain path that led up past the Thoresan house and continued up the mountain towards its peak.
“Everyone alright? Not too cold?” George asked, forever looking out for others. Everyone nodded whilst checking their sleeves, tucking in any loose shirts and generally checking for anywhere their body heat could escape. Now that they wouldn’t be moving, the cold would set in quickly. Chloe looked about the square, it was too dark to see all the way to the other side. The flat snow stretched out into the gloom, she was reminded of the frozen lake. Would this plan turn out to be just as dangerous? Eddy sniffed loudly beside her and she became aware of just how quiet everything was. She looked at the boy’s faces, they seemed to have that strange mixture of excitement and fear that she was feeling. Suddenly, she found that she could see them clearly. A cloud above had moved and the moon; full, bright and beautiful, illuminated the snowy scene. They all looked up at it for a moment, transfixed by its light. It was the exact opposite of the dark pool in the ice. Chloe smiled and then remembered her duties.
“Two of us should look out over the square, and the others should look towards the path.”
“What do you think we will see?” Tim whispered, his teeth chattering.
“I think it will be scary.” replied Eddy.
“What is it though?”
“I don’t know, maybe a ghost?”
“Ghosts don’t eat fish.” Tim giggled. The two boys continued to swap theories about what ghosts or ghouls may or may not eat. Chloe smiled at their silly musings. After Tim and Eddy inevitably began to hit each other she raised a hand to hush them.
“We need to keep quiet, we might not hear anything if you two keep…” she paused. Chloe had been tasked with watching the square and just now she thought she might have seen something.
“What is it?” asked Tim.
“Is that… a candle?” she replied. Everyone whipped round to look across the moonlit square. At the edge of the sea of snow, just where the shadowy wall of buildings began there was the smallest of lights. Barely a pinprick in the distant darkness, the four children had to strain their eyes to be sure of what it was.
“I think it is…” said George. Chloe began to walk towards the light, hoping that it would become clearer as she approached.
“It is, it’s a candle light!” her voice was filled with excitement, someone had seen something. She started towards the light, the boys, quickly following behind her. They hadn’t gone ten steps however when another light appeared, this time just fifty feet left of the first. Chloe and her group stopped.
“Which one should we go to?” asked George, who’d seen the second light appear also. Chloe glanced from one to the other, unsure of what to do. Then, her decision was made for her by the appearance of a third candle flame, further round the square to the left.
“It’s moving.” she said, and she turned on her heel and headed to the left of the third light, hoping to head off whatever it was that was traversing the Benlunar streets so quickly.
It didn’t take them long to cross the square. The moon illuminated their way, reflecting off the snow as they went. But as they approached the wall of houses, the shadows began to reach out. They hit the entrance to an alleyway where Sara, Kara and Villem were stationed. Sara Peered out from behind a frightened looking Villem as they approached.
“What are you lot doing?? You nearly made us light the candle. Why aren’t you at your post?” Chloe had to catch her breath before she could reply, and even then, the response came in short bursts.
“Candles… already lit. Something… coming this way.” And that’s when they heard it. Or more accurately, they felt it. It was a low thudding rumble. Like when snow avalanches down a hillside but it only lasted a moment. Suddenly, another came only seconds later. Kara jumped and shrieked as a clump of snow was dislodged and fell from the roof above them. Chloe hushed her quickly and tried to get her breathing under control. Whatever it was that was making the noise, it was big and it was out of sight. At that moment, the rest of the children joined them, some still had their candles lit. Chloe went over to blow them out, the moon was still bright enough to see by. Then she turned and started walking briskly down the alley. She tried to stay low and hug the walls hoping they would hide her and her group from whatever it was. The thuds were erratic and evasive. At one moment, they seemed close, only to fade quickly into the distance. Running down the alleyway let the young people of Benlunar keep up with whatever it was, but they often found themselves turning around, having half heard a loud thud coming from behind them. Chloe had no room for fear, she pushed all anxiety aside and led her team past the back door of the Fox and Octopus and further down the alleyway towards the trades quarter. At one point the moon’s light was briefly blocked out, plunging their street into complete darkness for only a second. Too quick to be a cloud, too big to be a bird. Thud, thud, the rumbles quickened and Chloe sensed they were getting closer. The alleyway opened out into a cobbled street. The thudding had frustratingly stopped and the children looked desperately left and right, searching for some sign of the subject of the hunt. The street was quiet and empty. Chloe was about to curse and give up when she saw her brother’s face. He was looking up and back towards where they had come from. His expression was one of confusion.
“I can’t see the Stave.” he whispered. Chloe almost dismissed the comment as unimportant, but then she realised that they really hadn’t come that far from the town square and even in this light the Stave Church tower should be clearly visible. She turned around to verify her brother’s observation. All the children gathered on the snow covered cobbles turned as one to stare back down the alley and up at the church tower. George was right. The church was invisible, and so was the mountain behind it. That patch of sky was so dark that even the stars were obscured. Chloe turned back to check whether the rest of the sky was just as dark, but the moon was still shining brightly behind her, and she could even see stars twinkling around it. She turned back to the patch of darkness. It was still there. Chloe felt her stomach tighten and took a deep involuntary gulp of cold air as she, along with the other children, saw the darkness move.
The creature was darkness made flesh, a being of pure tenebrosity. It blended into the night sky like a shadow in shade. The only thing distinguishing it from the rest of the sky was the occasional absence of stars. They winked out as it swayed clumsily from side to side, shifting its weight to compensate for its massive size. Chloe tried to make out a shape. By squinting and employing a little imagination she thought she could discern a head sitting on giant shoulders on top of a wagon sized body. Arms the size of ceiling beams and legs the length of tree trunks. The children stood frozen in place like that wolf gripped by an icy hand. It was fear and fascination that kept any of them from screaming or running away. Chloe even felt a smile creep across her face.
She thought she saw the stars starting to return, was the giant fading away? There were two lights appearing towards the top of its form where its head would be. Chloe realised that they were not stars, they were the wrong colour and size. These lights were red. And they were big. The children stared up at the creature, and the creature was staring back.
Chloe stepped forward. She knew that if she did nothing now she would kick herself in the morning. They only had a few hours left until Lang Natt and they could not afford to waste this opportunity.
“Chloe! What are you doing?” Kara found her voice and whispered a loud warning. Chloe put a hand out to calm the group. She turned back and looked up into the eyes.
“You’re the emissary aren’t you?” There was silence. The children barely dared to breathe. Chloe went on. “You were a prince once. You’re here to warn us. I didn’t understand before tonight, but I think I know now.” The large eyes blinked. Chloe had been mulling the various clues and messages over and over in her head all day, and she had come to a conclusion. “We thought that Benlunar had done something bad, but that’s not it. The fish weren’t given to the town, they were given to the people who live in it. Everyone got one and so everyone had to think about why that was. It was meant to make us think wasn’t it? It was meant to make us examine the deeds we have done and take steps to make amends. Five days to forgive each other, five days find the problems and solve them. Five nights to hold each other close and share songs by the fire. That’s what Lang Natt is about isn’t it? We take one last look back at the year and we promise to be better. If we truly do our best, then the sun will come back because it will know that we’re trying. So, what I’m trying to say is, thank you Navnghast. Thank you for reminding us every year that we need to be good to each other, and good to ourselves. We promise we won’t let you down.” She turned to smile at her brother, who was smiling back at her. All the children held hands or closed their eyes and made their promises to be better. They knew they would sometimes fail, but the point was not perfection, they understood that now, the point was the effort. This beast when or if it was alive, had never made the effort to change and so it was cursed to remind others of its fate each year. So Chloe whispered one final thought to herself with her eyes closed. With that whisper, she forgave the prince for she knew that he had had no one like Navnghast to warn him. When she opened her eyes she saw the Stave Church tower, bathed in silver moonlight. The darkness had disappeared.
The next day the children went around the town telling everyone about what they had learned. Some people believed them, others did not. But everyone agreed that the message was a good one. To love freely and to forgive were not always easy things, but they were what made the long winter nights that much warmer and easier to bear. Chloe and George would spend the night with their parents, swapping stories and singing silly songs that only their family knew the words to. In the morning after many hours of darkness the sun would appear and be just a little bit brighter than it had been the day before.
Before that day however, Sara Smorkopp had a promise to keep. When the rest of the children were running around town spreading the lessons they’d learned the night before, she snuck through the big double doors of the Stave Church. Inside she found Brother Thomas and Mrs Thoresan deep in conversation. She shut the doors and they both looked up, alerted by the sound. They smiled and Sara smiled back at them as she walked down the tapestry lined passage to the main hall.
“Good morning Sara.” said Brother Thomas.
“Hello!” said Sara in greeting. Some movement from the back of the hall caught her eye and she saw Brother Ulnar carrying some heavy dark curtains into a storage room.
“We have been hearing all about your adventures.” Mrs Thoresan added.
“It has been quite an eventful week!” Sara agreed, “and a successful one I might add.” the church brother and town elder nodded in agreement.
“Might I ask, did anyone stand out for next year?” said Mrs Thoresan. Sara had been giving the question some thought that morning and had an answer prepared.
“I think Chloe Bergren would do well. She’s bright and cares greatly for the little ones.” Mrs Thoresan smiled.
“Then we are in agreement. Thank you Sara for helping, you performed admirably.” Sara bowed her head in deference.
“May I ask,” the question caught in Sara’s throat, she was still not used to conversing with important people. But the smile on their faces bade her to continue, “why now? Why this year?” She watched Mrs Thoresan turn away as if in deep thought. She was considering her words before answering.
“It has been a difficult year for everyone. I think it was nice for the young ones to have a distraction from the hardship. They deserve that from us. A little magic, a little adventure is important when you are young.”
Benlunar - Episode 21
The fight for the farm.
The Roads of Alicium run through it like veins
From small paths down mountains to city built lanes
They’ll guide you home or take you away
Or make you visit village that begs you to stay
Up through the pass, down through the grass
Stick to your map, veer not from the path
Or perhaps take an unfamiliar bend
After all, the aim of the song is the tune not the end
Lilian held her breath. She reached out her left hand to find Fritha’s head. She stroked it gently in the hopes of calming her. Lilian wasn’t too worried about Fritha making noise, if there was anyone who knew how to hide, it was her. Maybe she was stroking her to calm herself more than the other way around. The moon’s stark light still shone through the hole in the roof of the recently burnt out barn. Lilian looked to the door where another sliver of light was sneaking into the dusty darkness. Two mercenary soldiers stood there, watching through knot holes or cracks in the wood. They wore silver breastplates and helmets in the shapes of animals. The woman, whose name was Solveig, was staring, unblinking through a small hole in the door. They were waiting to ambush a group of men, rough city fools who thought that this country farm was stashed full of money. Lilian almost smiled at the irony of standing beside two of the most expensive soldiers money could buy while defending a distinct lack of treasure. Just then, Lilian tensed her arm. She’d seen Solveig grip her friend’s arm and then start tapping it lightly. Lilian strained to hear what was happening outside, she heard muffled deep voices and occasionally the sound of a footstep or a scuffed shoe. She thought she could hear some of these footsteps getting closer to the barn and with each step, Solveig’s tapping became sharper and harder. Lilian still held her new knife in her right hand, and she felt her grip loosen slightly from the sweat on her palm. In a silent rush Solveig and the other mercenary walked backwards towards a dark corner of the barn where there were still piles of hay. Solveig looked to Lilian and pushed her hand out and down mouthing the words ‘hide’ ‘hide’ as she did. Lilian looked around and saw a hay bail a few feet behind her. Would it be big enough to hide her fully? She began to panic. When she looked back to ask Solveig what she should do, she saw the two mercenaries disappear into a stack of hay almost twice their height. A bit of rustling and they were gone. The voices by the door were loud now. Lilian was out of time. Her left hand suddenly felt wet for some reason. She looked down to see Fritha licking it. She stopped when Lilian caught her eye and then raised a paw up before dropping it quickly and awkwardly to the dusty stone floor. And then Lilian understood. She instinctively dropped to the floor, curling up by the hay bale as she did. She shut her eyes and gripped her knife tightly to her chest so that it didn’t reflect any light. She heard the door open just as she felt Fritha’s weight fall on top of her. The girl and the beast kept deathly still, barely moving to breathe while the sounds of footsteps entered the barn. Lilian took the opportunity to slip into her state of focus. The room suddenly became a bright grey and black echo chamber. The stone floors were bright with crunches and rustles while the hay bales looked like dark pockets where sound went to dissipate, bar the occasional squeak of what Lilian thought must be a mouse or rat. In this state, Lilian could clearly hear the barn doors opening and two hearts walking in. With Fritha’s whole weight upon her Lilian felt comforted and relaxed enough to focus on what was going on in the room. She heard the hiss of a small fire, probably a torch. Lilian was confident enough in Fritha’s extraordinary knack for hiding that the light of a small torch did not concern her. What worried her more was the possibility of the men repeating what they had done earlier and setting the hay bails alight. This worry was dampened when one of the men spoke. Even though it was clearly a whisper, in hyper focus Lilian could hear it as clear as a bell.
“Nothing.” One voice said.
“Probably all in the house.” Replied another, lower and gruffer than the first.
“This is weird.” The first voice said. And Lilian heard a change in his heart beat. A slight quickening indicating, fear perhaps? Lilian felt Fritha’s breathing change at the same moment. Her heart, loud as a beating drum when so close to Lilian, appeared to be slowing down. Lilian ignored it for now and went back to directing her focus towards the two men. They had turned back towards the door and were walking out. A voice further outside greeted them as they appeared in the doorway. Lilian wasn’t ready to catch what it said, but she heard the replies clearly,
“Nothing.” Said the first voice again.
“They’re either in the house or they’ve scarpered.” Said the second voice. The outside voice said something in low muffled tones which elicited chuckles from the two men in the barn.
“Yeah,” the first voice agreed, “and they’ll have left it on the kitchen table.” More low laughter.
“I swear,” the second voice now, “If we’ve come out here for nothing it’s going to be Razzit who’ll be coughing up.” Lilian had to focus hard to catch this last part as the second voice was exiting the barn as it spoke. The first man was still there, lurking in the doorway of the barn but judging by the position of his heart and the shuffling of his feet, he was looking outward. Lilian kept still and focused for a few seconds. There were a few voices coming from outside. Presumably the men were assessing the situation and making some sort of plan. Lilian was also distracted by the beating of the man’s heart, with every minute that went by it seemed to be getting more erratic, jumpy and fearful. What was even stranger, was that Fritha’s heartbeat seemed to be matching it exactly. Syncing beat for beat like she was reacting directly to it somehow. Lilian could have listened for a lot longer but something snapped her out of it. A sound from the darkness around the hay bales. The slightest shuffle of a foot. A breath. A calm heart beat eeking ever closer to the fearful one by the door. Then a sound. A clasping or cupping. A struggle and a quickening heart. Someone had left the hay bales in deathly silence and had put their hand over the fearful man’s mouth. Unable to make a sound vocally, Lilian heard him thrashing in an attempt to throw his torch. The wood left his hand but never hit the ground. Caught in a quiet catch by a third heart beat that had also recently left the hay. Then, a low thunk and the thrashing stopped. All the hearts were still beating, but they were all calm now. Lilian opened her eyes and peeked through Fritha’s straw coloured fur to see Solveig and the soldier slowly lower the unconscious man into the hay stack they had just been hiding in. Lilian tapped Fritha lightly on the side and the great invisible beast stood up soundlessly, Lilian breathed a little easier and got herself up on to her feet as quietly as she could. Solveig turned and had to catch herself from gasping. She clearly hadn’t expected to see Lilian standing beside a large dog and her eyes darted from the small hay bale to the big animal and back again, a look of confusion plastered across her normally stern face. The crack of a twig from outside snapped her back to attention. She brought her two axes out of her belt and the other mercenary fetched his long pike from where he’d hidden it behind a pillar. It seemed ridiculously impractical in this moment, but Lilian watched the way the man effortlessly handled its weight, keeping quiet as he brought it up and over his head, trying several stances before he found one he was comfortable with. Solveig was already by the door, hugging the wood and keeping a watchful eye on the group outside. She gestured towards her friend, spreading out 5 fingers on her left hand, then a fist, then five fingers, then another five, then a fist, then finally three fingers. Eighteen men, thought Lilian. They were outnumbered.
Solveig appeared to be waiting for something. Lilian was just wondering if all warfare involved this much waiting, when she heard a sound coming from further away. Lilian assumed it must be coming from the farmhouse. It sounded like a dog barking. Even Fritha’s ears pricked up when she heard it. Lilian was impressed. Everyone in the farm knew that the only dog on the premises was currently in the barn. Whoever had made the sound had clearly practised it a lot. It was very convincing. A dog bark could also mean several things. It could mean someone in the house was busy trying to calm a dog, or it meant that everyone had truly left and the noise was coming from a wild animal. Clear enough to catch attention. Vague enough to not give anything away. The dog bark was met with many whispers coming from the group of men. Everyone seemed to have their own take on what was going on. Seeding fear and confusion seemed to all be part of Solveig’s plan. The warrior woman took advantage of the distraction and sprang into action. She slipped out of the door like a shadow, followed by her friend. Lilian bade Fritha to stay behind her while she carefully approached the door. She found a hole in the wood and was able to finally see what they were up against. A group of men were huddled against one of the makeshift barricades that Mr Attorcop and the farmers had helped to construct earlier that evening. Lilian almost laughed when she remembered what Solveig had said in her speech, “We let them take the paths we have set out for them.” By creating these barricades, they had given the bandits a place to hide, but knowing exactly where they were hiding, gave the farmers the advantage. Lilian strained to see Solveig and the other mercenary slip round and behind the group of bandits, ducking behind a stack of crates the farmers had placed further down the road. The men had no idea, but they were now surrounded on two fronts, 3, if Lilian counted herself and Fritha. She was trying to listen to what the men were saying, but it was difficult without being in focus, which she wanted to avoid right now because she wanted to watch rather than listen. For some time, nothing happened. It felt like ages, but was probably less than a minute. Eventually, five of the men stood up and rushed over to another barricade a little ways up towards the farmhouse door. They crouched and hid, same as their comrades, when they got there. After another long while, presuming it was safe to continue, another group of 4 men broke off from the group furthest back, ran up and past the second barricade and hid behind the barricade closest to the front door. When they finally reached it, Lilian heard the loud sound of a bird coming from behind the first group. It was a shrill and mournful cry, perfectly executed even though Lilian knew it must have been Solveig or the other mercenary. Lilian was so shocked by the loud noise she almost shifted her weight to look and see where it came from. But this was what Solveig wanted. Lilian knew better, she knew to keep her eyes on the farmhouse. That was because the instant after the bird call sounded and all the bandits swiveled their heads to see where the sound had come from, Lilian saw a tiny flickering light appear in one of the top windows of the farmhouse. Lilian had seen the third mercenary wrapping arrowheads in cloth and dipping them in lamp oil in the evening so she wondered if this little light was one of those. As expected, the light stayed in the window for only a second before streaking out and down towards the second barricade. All the bandits were too low to be hit, even from the high vantage point. She heard the arrow thud into wood, the sound drew the attention of a couple of the bandits and one or two of them seemed to be looking about for its cause. That was when the explosion happened. A deafening bang echoed through the darkness. There was no fire but Lilian felt the barn doors shake from the blast. Her ears rang with it long after the last of the debris from the barricade crashed down to earth. Now she understood what Mr Attorcop had been doing with the manure. With the proper chemicals mixed in, the smelly gas from cow dung could be trapped and ignited by pressure or, as in this case, fire. The very thing the bandits had been cowering behind for safety, was the thing that had just attacked them. Lilian could hear shouting now and she narrowed her eyes to try and see what was happening through the rising dust cloud. Two men were on the floor, face down in the road. One was clutching his side and panting heavily. No sooner had Lilian time to take it all in, when another flickering light shot out of the top window. This time, the bandits were slight more prepared and two of them managed to stand up and run back or off to the side before a second bang cracked through the night. It was like being next to a lightning bolt, thought Lilian who had managed to cover her ears in time for this one. The second explosion had not been as big as the first but it showed the bandits several things at once. One, they now had to question every position they assumed to be safe and two they were facing more than just farmers. One of the younger men in the first group lost his composure and ran off into the field. Lilian heard the ringing clank of a bear trap as the young man fell to the floor, clutching his leg and screaming. Lilian felt a sick feeling in her stomach. Even though these men were here to hurt people, she felt sorry for them, squaring up against 3 of Alicium’s most expensive soldiers. On top of everything, they now also knew that fleeing into the fields was a bad idea. That left them with two options, fight forward or flee back.
Then the song started. Lilian heard it coming from the farmhouse, it was similar to the song the mercenaries had sang earlier that day, when they had approached the bandits from the road. It was just a man’s voice singing now though. Lilian decided to take the risk and poked her head out of the barn doors. She could see more clearly now. She angled her head to bring the farmhouse into focus. She saw the third mercenary stood brazenly in front of the front door, he held his long pike in his hands and was singing his slow song. Lilian noticed that this song was more rhythmic than the last. It had a pulse to it that the soldier pronounced by tapping his right foot in time. Lilian didn’t understand the language but she understood the intention behind the song. It was uncanny and out of place. There should not be singing during a fight. She felt a slight trickle of fear prick the hairs on the back of her neck. She couldn’t imagine what the men out there must be feeling. Lilian suddenly looked down, noticing Fritha moving oddly by her side. Fritha’s ears were flattened and her nose was up in the air. She was facing the group of men but the barn door blocked her direct sightline. Then, for the second time in their few weeks together, Lilian heard Fritha make a peculiar sound. It was like a low gong had been hit with a padded beater. It wasn’t particularly loud so Lilian wasn’t worried about her being heard over the singing. In fact, the two seemed to compliment each other rather well. Lilian recognised the sound from the time Fritha saved her in a dark alley in Hundsberg. She had reacted to something then as well. Could it be…? Lilian wasn’t able to finish her thought before she sensed movement outside. 3 men had been shouting about how their comrades were cowards and that it was just one man. Lilian could hear their voices over the singing,
“Get your lazy, craven bones up and ready. This one’s on us. The rest of you, get to the house and search it. Brick, keep a lookout.” Lilian watched the speaking man stand and stride confidently towards the still singing mercenary. He was flanked by two of this crew, all of them held swords, the one on the right even held a makeshift shield made from what looked like a flattened cooking pot. The mercenary continued to sing, unfased by the approaching men. It wasn’t until they were within reach of his pike that any movement occured. It wasn’t the mercenary who moved however, instead Lilian caught a flash of darkness appear, as if from nowhere. There was a quick swooshing sound, followed by a thunk of metal on bone and the apparition was gone again. Lilian watched the man with the shield fall to his knees and then flat on to his face. Out cold. The other two men froze in fear, one of them looked around to see where the strange dark shape had come from. Doing this meant he’d taken his eye off of the mercenary’s pike which shot through the darkness and quickly embedded itself into the man’s left shoulder. The man shouted in pain in the same instant that the mercenary shifted his whole weight into a twist, shoving the impaled bandit into his friend causing them both to stumble off balance for a second. The shadow then reappeared and Lilian was able to catch a glimpse of Mr Attorcop’s face and beard before the sickening metallic clunk resounded off the man’s head. The stumble became a trip, the shadow was gone and both men hit the ground. The mercenary sang throughout, never missing a beat. Lilian watched as the remaining bandits started to scatter, two or three of them dropped their weapons and made signs of wanting to surrender. One however, continued to shout abuse, he struck anyone who looked as though they were about to give up, hurling curses and insults at all of them. Lilian saw in the dim light that he had a scar on his lip, this was the man from earlier, the one whose reputation was riding on this whole raid. Lilian watched him shove one of the younger men and grapple with him until he pulled something over the man’s neck, it seemed to be a long piece of twine tied to a metallic instrument. Lilian watched the man put the thing to his lips, draw a deep breath and blow into the mouth piece. The object was some kind of trumpet, Lilian heard a couple of raspy tones before the man found the knack and blew a long low note. When he stopped, Lilian could hear it echoing across the fields and bouncing back off barn walls. She wondered if there must have been something magical about the horn, its echo was lasting a peculiarly long time, but then she realised that there was another, similar horn in the distance, answering the call. Lilian’s stomach dropped. Were there more of these thieves? What if the farm was overrun? So far their traps and positions seemed to have worked, but that was all against a relatively small number of attackers. Lilian looked around the barn and realised how cornered she was. Hiding had worked once but what if the newcomers set the barn on fire? Lilian’s nerves suddenly got the better of her and she decided to try and escape the barn. If she kept low and hid behind Fritha then… Her train of thought was interrupted by the rumbling sound of approaching horses. Lilian didn’t want to rush out now in case she ran headlong into a cavalry. She went back to peeking through the barn doors. Not much had changed, the mercenary at the farm was still singing, the remaining bandits were still crouched behind the unexploded barricade. Lilian looked down the road and saw movement in the moonlight. Solveig and the other soldier were changing positions, probably in reaction to the sounds of horns and hooves. Instead of hiding on the roadside, they were switching so that they would not be seen by anyone approaching from the road. It was a risk as the group already at the farm could now potentially spot them, but they seemed to be distracted by the man at the house who, for all they knew, was the only mercenary the farmer could afford.
After about a minute the hooves got louder and Lilian could see a group of 8 or 9 men on horseback, cantering down the road. They slowed when they got to the farm and saw no immediate fighting. At the head of the group was a man dressed in a long black coat. He seemed older than the rest of them, he also seemed angry. Probably upset that he had to have been called in to back up a bunch of incompetents. His eyes darted about, expecting to spot some kind of trouble or an ambush. They finally fell on the group of bandits several yards in front and on the single singing soldier by the farm door.
“What the blazes are you calling us in for? You lot having trouble or summink? It’s just the one…”
The man never finished telling off his crew. At that moment he was interrupted by one of Solveig’s axes knocking him clean off his horse. It happened so fast, he didn’t even make a sound until he hit the ground with a loud thud and an ‘oof’ as all the air was pushed out of his chest. And then it was pandemonium. His horse whinnied and leapt up in fear, this clearly was no battle hardened colt, as at the first sign of a fracas it jumped and kicked, catching one of the horses behind it with its back leg. The chaos was not helped by the fact that the mercenary on the opposite side of the road to Solveig was sweeping his pike amongst the horses legs, hitting as many as he could and causing them to buck and panic. The men who had been hiding up the road suddenly leapt to their feet and ran to join the struggle. The painful sound of screaming horses was almost too much for Lilian to bear. The terrible symphony was added to by two more mercenary voices joining in with the singing. Lilian took advantage of the chaos to duck out of the barn. She crouched to avoid any stray projectiles and stuck close to the barn wall holding her breath as she went. Fritha padded by her side, which gave her some comfort but fear still drove her forward. She looked up briefly to see the mercenary who had been at the farm, running down the path to join his friends down the road. Lilian was almost at the farmhouse, assuming she’d escaped the worst of it, when she looked up and came face to face with a young man. He looked right at her and held up a trembling hand, a small knife protruded from the fist, its point shaking. The man took a step forward with a heavy limp. Lilian looked down at his legs and saw that the left one was cut and bloodied. This must be the young man who’d stepped in the bear trap. He looked about as keen to be there as Lilian felt. They stared each other down, each one not knowing what next move to take. Lilian reached slowly for her knife but the man stepped forward before she could reach it.
“Stop right there,” He said in a tone of false confidence. Lilian didn’t need to listen to his heart to know it must have been beating at an alarming rate. She could see sweat reflecting on his brow. Knowing that he was scared didn’t comfort her however, scared men act irrationally and Lilian had to be sure to stay on her guard. She knew how to defend against an armed attacker but training and coming up against the real thing were very different. Luckily, the action was taken for her as Fritha stepped out from behind her and growled a low jangling rumble. The man’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and he stepped back absent mindedly, putting his full weight onto his bad foot. His face winced in pain and just as his eyes closed briefly, Lilian heard the now familiar thunk of metal on bone. The man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor with a thud. Mr Attorcop was revealed standing behind him, clutching a silver rod in his right hand. It reminded Lilian of the silver sword he sometimes conjured from a bottle of essence, it had the same shimmering quality to the silver, only it this was thicker and heavier.
“Are you alright?” Lilian nodded, still a little shook up from the night’s events. Mr Attorcop glanced behind her, sounds of shouts and horses still came from down the road.
“I didn’t think there would be more of them.” Said Lilian. Mr Attorcop looked over her shoulder at the scrap happening on the road.
“They must have mentioned the mercenaries and organised back up just in case.” Mr Attorcop spoke with wide eyes. He maintained his composure, but it was clear to Lilian that he was on high alert. He motioned for her to follow him and the two of them crept round to the back of the farm house. From here, they could still hear the occasional singing voice, but the main noise of the fight was muffled. As they turned the corner Lilian saw Mr Hayes and Brackus. The sellsword had his blade out in front of him and nearly jumped out of his skin when Mr Attorcop turned the corner. He relaxed when he saw it was just the two travellers from earlier.
“We should get going, there might be more on the way.” He spoke in a loud whisper, his face dark in the shadow of the farmhouse. Lilian looked at Mr Attorcop and tugged on his cloak,
“I can check.” She raised her eyebrows imploringly. It took him a second to decide but Mr Attorcop finally looked at her and whispered,
“Be quick. Check the whole area, special attention to any waterways that may be masking sound.” Lilian did not have to be told twice and she slipped into her state of hyper focus by the time Mr Attorcop had finished talking. The first sound she had to get over was the heightened sound of Brackus’ voice, he was asking Mr Attorcop about what she was doing. She ignored the voices in her immediate area and stretched her attention out all around her, like was a patient octopus, feeling about for movement. She heard the patter of tiny feet next to a racing heart, a mouse. She heard the slightest of splashes as a sparrow washed itself in a puddle. She avoided the fight as those hearts and hits would be too loud and too close together for her to get anything useful. She did hear the three mercenaries singing though, she kept that in focus as she enjoyed the sound of music while she worked. It wasn’t until she took Mr Attorcop’s advice and paid close attention to a stream about half a mile away that she noticed something strange. The sound of the water was indeed masking something. Thuds. Soft and wet. Footsteps. How many? More than a small group. Coming this way. Hearts slow and soft. Lilian opened her eyes.
“There are more, they’re coming this way from the west.”
“How many?” Asked Mr Attorcop.
“Not sure, but they’re not nervous.”
“How long until they get here?” Lilian had to guess.
“Maybe 2 minutes.” This information sprang Mr Attorcop into action.
“Right, I’m going to warn the mercenaries, you lot, go to the hut where the others are, get the coaches ready. I think we might have to abandon the farm.” Mr Hayes looked confused, but nodded his head in agreement.
“If this had been all of them,” Brackus whispered, “That might have been okay. But you’re right, another wave would be too much. Come, I take you both.” He motioned for Lilian and Mr Hayes to follow him. Lilian made sure Fritha was close by and then started to walk. She caught herself before getting to far and turned back,
“Cromwell.” She whispered through the gloom. In the dim starlight she saw Mr Attorcop turn around, catch her eye, nod in answer to an unspoken request, and then disappear.
The store house was not far and luckily it was North east from the farm so they didn’t run into any trouble on the way. They kept low and quiet. When they reached the run down building, Brackus gave a distinctive whistle. Lilian saw Anna’s face appear at a window. Her eyes looked scared, but they relaxed when she saw her father was with them. The building was larger than Lilian had expected it to be. Once inside, Mr Hayes took charge and explained what had happened before ordering everyone to pack up and ready the horses for a swift exit. Lilian didn’t have anything in particular to pack so she stayed by the window and kept a lookout. At one point she heard a loud bang and saw a flash of light come from the other side of the farm house. She was nervous but positive that she would not leave until she saw Mr Attorcop safely on board one of these wagons. Mrs Hayes put her hand on Lilian’s shoulder after a minute of her watching.
“He’ll be alright.” Her tone was confident and Lilian was momentarily reassured. She knew Cromwell Attorcop to be a fierce fighter when he had to be. But still the seconds past, unrelenting. She looked back at the wagons and saw that most people were ready and waiting to leave. The doors of the store house swung open like a barn and the strapped horses seemed impatient and confused as to why they were not moving. Looking at Mr Hayes Lilian could tell he was purposefully not meeting her eye. He wanted to leave and Lilian couldn’t blame him. She was about to suggest that they go, that they leave her and Mr Attorcop when she took a quick glance back through the window and saw dark figures making their way across the grass.
“There are people.” She whispered to the travellers.
“Friend or foe?” Said Mr Hayes in a shaky whisper. Lilian narrowed her eyes, trying to see any signs of familiarity in the darkness.
“Friends.” She said, she had seen a glint of moonlight bouncing off what was unmistakably a bald head. She jumped back from the glass and clambered onto Mr Hayes’ wagon. She heard him click his tongue and the horses sprang into motion. It left the store house under cover of darkness, followed by the other carts and horses that had made up the caravan. There was an overgrown path in front of them that lead ahead and round towards the main road, passing under a small hill which was cut away to accommodate the road, again hiding it from view of the farm making this storehouse an even better hideaway than Lilian had thought it at first. She touched Fritha’s fur and made sure she was lying down amongst the crates and cargo stashed onto the back of the open wagon. Lilian stood up, waving her hands in the hope that Mr Attorcop would see her. The figures were closer now and the two frontrunners stopped when they saw the wagons leaving the storehouse. They quickly started heading towards the small hill and Lilian understood.
“Keep going.” She leant back and whispered loudly to Mr Hayes, “They’re going to jump on at the hill.” Lilian was smiling when she turned back to track their progress. There were two dark figures one of them was leaning on the other. Mr Attorcop seemed to be assisting an injured man, probably one of the mercenaries. Lilian looked past them, into the darkness and discerned a few more figures rushing through the grass. Each of them left an indent in the long grass as they walked. Mr Attorcop was pointing out the small hill to his companion and then dropped back to the other group. The injured man started to hobble towards the intersection point where he would meet the caravan and escape. Suddenly, Lilian’s heart sank. From on top of the wagon, she had a good view of the scene. She could see the smaller group, presumably made up of the farmers and the other two mercenaries. Mr Attorcop was getting close to them but they hadn’t seen what was approaching from behind. Lilian could see the trenches in the tall grass that her friends had carved out in their passage. She then watched in horror as the grass behind and around her friends began to have similar vein-like trenches carved through it. Crouching assailants were approaching the group and only Lilian could see them, or rather, she saw the signs of their presence. The veins were approaching from all sides, Lilian counted at least 6 before breaking all pretence of stealth and yelling at the top of her lungs.
“RUN!” The group froze for a fraction of a second before quickening their pace. She heard Mr Attorcop barking orders and Mr Hayes even cracked his crop, sparking a whinny from the horses and a lurch that almost made Lilian lose balance. The wagon managed to pick up the first mercenary without a problem. Brackus leant out of the side to grip his arms and hoist him into the seat beside him. Lilian saw that it was one of the mercenary men, he had lost his pike and his leg was hurt. As the caravan sped up, Lilian realised that the rest of the group would have to jump onto the wagons from the hill. Her heart raced and Fritha growled and barked her strange jangling chords seemingly willing the group to go faster, or perhaps just reacting to the sudden chaos. Lilian saw one of the veins catch up with a figure and someone was pulled down into the tall grass. Lilian heard a small shout, and then saw nothing. Whoever this group were, they were a lot more competent than their colleagues who had stormed the farmhouse. Lilian kept her eyes fixed on Mr Attorcop. They were in moonlight now and she could see him clearly. He was helping Solveig who was clutching her left arm. Everyone’s pace quickened and as the wagon approached the small hill, Mr Garrow and his wife were making ready to jump onto a passing cart. One, two then all the Garrows jumped into the wagons passing below them. Lilian watched as everyone landed safely. Her wagon had passed but there was still a chance that Mr Attorcop could jump into the last one. She watched, helplessly as he pushed Solveig unceremoniously into the final wagon. He seemed like he was about to jump, he even had his knees bent in preparation. But the jump never came. Instead, he simply looked up and caught Lilian’s eyes. Confused, Lilian wanted to shout and tell him to jump, but she saw then that something was stopping him. There was an arm wrapped around his front, long and pallid Lilian saw fingers that were three times the length they should be. It gripped Mr Attorcop’s night sky cloak before a second arm reached out and around, tightening its hold on Mr Attorcop’s waist. Lilian looked into his eyes and she noticed his confident, stoic expression. He nodded at her as he disappeared into the distance. Lilian’s eyes filled with tears as she saw a face emerge from behind his shoulder. That terrible and haunting face that would plague her dreams for many nights to come. It was a sad and sallow face, with dull eyes set back in a deformed skull. Its greasy, muck black hair fell over its face and pointed down to a terrifying, slit in its skin where, on any other face there would have been a mouth. It was a face as seen in the worst nightmares of a child. It was the face of a demon. One that had something owed to it, and had now at the worst possible moment, come to collect its due.
Benlunar - Episode 20
The farmers prepare for war.
The Roads of Alicium run through it like veins
From small paths down mountains to city built lanes
They’ll guide you home or take you away
Or make you visit village that begs you to stay
Up through the pass, down through the grass
Stick to your map, veer not from the path
Or perhaps take an unfamiliar bend
After all, the aim of the song is the tune not the end
Lilian stopped in her tracks. Ahead of her she could still see the barn burning away. By now black smoke was billowing out of the roof, creating a tower 30 feet high. She was within shouting distance now of the farmer and his family. The farmer was still holding a pail of water, a pathetic suggestion of hope against the inferno beyond. He was older than Lilian had suspected, Lilian could see white hair sprouting from beneath his straw sunguard hat. His family were nearby, closer to the farmhouse. There was an older woman, presumably the farmer’s wife, and two young men who were similar looking enough to be brothers. They were watching their father square off against a nasty looking man with a pointed nose and a scarred lip. Him and his thuggish friends were blocking the way to the barn. Lilian had heard only moments ago that they were the ones who had set it alight, and were holding it hostage until the farmer gave them some sort of treasure or money in return. The scene was a tragic one and Lilian had hoped to come to the farmer’s aid. Although admittedly, she had no idea how she would be able to help. Currently everyone was frozen still. The fire could be heard cracking and hissing in the barn but the shouted exchanges had stopped. Lilian had also stopped. Everyone was looking about, cocking their heads in confusion as they attempted to discern the source of a song. Lilian could hear it clearly now, it was several voices singing in unison, singing a song she had not heard before. The song was… unsettling. It was melodious and admittedly well sung, but the feeling behind it was threatening somehow. Lilian felt a chill run down her back. It was made worse by the fact that she could not see where the voices were coming from. The group ahead did not appear to have noticed her so Lilian took the opportunity to drop down into the tall grass. Fritha took the hint and dropped to her belly, her coat shifting into a green colour with a grassy texture as she did so. Lilian still could not get over how such a big creature could disappear so easily. One of the thugs shouted something, “Who’s doing that??”
“Shut up!” The pointy nosed man snapped at his friend before reeling around, his eyes darting crazily from corner to corner. Lilian was looking too but then realised that she had better ways of finding sounds that didn’t involve her eyes. She closed her eyes and slipped into a relaxed focus. The first sound to hit her was Fritha’s heavy breathing. She could feel her weight against her and the vibrations of her heart beat echoed through her body with heavy thuds. Lilian expanded her sphere of attention and stretched it outwards. Like tentacles feeling their way through the grass she weaved past insects rubbing their chirping legs together, she found frogs by a creak and the quickened heart beats of the frightened farmers. The bandits were also scared, Lilian could hear their shallow breaths and their clothes rustling as their muscles tensed, ready to spring into fight or flight. The song was always present, like a blanket over the entire scene. This made it difficult to find at first, but after concentrating on the voices for just a few more seconds, Lilian found them. She had expected them to be hidden behind a wall or building, but when she opened her eyes she quickly looked left, expecting to see the singers arriving at any instant from down the main road. The voices hadn’t been making an effort to hide, but the quality of their song had meant that no one could place them. Lilian pushed herself up on her elbows slightly to get a better look. She had distinctly heard 3 voices, two low tones and one higher. As expected, two men and a woman appeared walking down the road towards the farm. The bandits and farmers turned to look at them. Lilian could see that they were wearing the red cloth shirts, dark red trousers and silver breastplates of the hundred. The two men even carried the distinct pikes that had made the small army seem so tall and dangerous. The woman carried two small axes in both hands. Lilian had seem similar axes in Benlunar, her family even had one. They were used to chop smaller bits of wood for the fire. Though Lilian had never seen any so brightly polished.
Lilian was confused, why were these three mercenaries here and not with the rest of their group? She watched as the soldiers approached the burning barn. They stopped singing when they were within speaking distance of the bandits. They rounded off the song by stomping their feet together, kicking up a small cloud of dust as they did. The two men stepped to either side of their female colleague and lowered their pikes. The woman, who Lilian could see was wearing a helmet shaped like a cow’s head, its blank silver eyes twisted into a terrible frozen shout, shifted her weight casually and spoke up.
“Why is this barn on fire?” Her voice was clear and stern. The impact of their impressive arrival was clearly not lost on the bandits. One of the thug’s eyes were so wide Lilian wondered if they might pop out of his head. Their leader was gritting his teeth. It was clear from just looking at the scene what was happening.
“You get out of here understand!? This doesn’t concern you.” He puffed his chest out as he shouted but Lilian could hear the fear cracking his voice. He was about to speak again when the farmer cut him off.
“These villains are burning down my property. They want money but I’ve told them we ain’t got much.” The man with the scarred lip, obviously the leader of these men, rushed towards the old man with his sword up. The farmer shut his eyes and brought his hands up to his face, dropping his bucket in the process. A feeble amount of water splashed to the ground. The clattering of the bucket had only just stopped before the farmer opened his eyes again. A large pike was embedded in the ground in front of him forming a barrier between him and the bandit. It was still vibrating from the impact as Lilian looked to one of the soldiers. He was on one knee, his right hand stretched out in front of him after having released the pike.
“Step back. Leave this place.” The woman with the cow helmet spoke again. The bandit leader, having narrowly avoided being skewered on a pike turn to look at his men. Clearly not wanting to appear weak, he spoke with as much confidence and bravado as his shaky legs would grant him.
“Sod this. We’ll come back later.” He pointed a scarred hand at the farmer, “We know you got money in that house. We got plenty of time, more men and more fire. Come on lads.” He gestured to his cronies and they started walking away. They glared at the soldiers as they walked past. Some men looked pleased to be going, others were angry, probably hoping to prove themselves against some members of the legendary Hundred. Lilian watched them walk disbondantly away and caught sight of a cloud of dust in the distance. Lilian remembered that they had instructed their caravan to take the road round to the smoke, this must be them arriving now. She hoped that the bandits wouldn’t cause them any trouble as they crossed paths.
As soon as the men were a safe distance away the farmer and his family sprang into action. They fetched more pales and ran over to a pump at the side of the farm house. The soldiers helped as well, laying down their pikes and running into the barn to extract any bales of hay that had not yet been touched by the fire. Lilian saw her chance to provide meaningful help and she leapt to her feet. She waved and shouted as she ran towards them and she noticed the soldiers tense ever so slightly as they turned to look at her. But after seeing she was just a young girl with a big dog, they relaxed and went back to helping. About a minute later Mr Attorcop had joined them and the caravan were just pulling up as well. Everyone chipped in and ran about fetching pails of water and trying desperately to save any hay bails. It took nearly an hour to get the fire under control and for people to enter the barn properly to survey the damage. Luckily, the fire had been started by a torch tossed to the top of a large pile of hay, this meant that some of the roof was badly burnt but had the fire been started at the base, it could have been a lot worse. Even so, the farmer’s wife, who Lilian found out was called Gemma, had tears welling in her eyes as she past round cups of tea to everyone who had helped.
“We provide feed for the whole region.” She explained. “Everyone depends on us to feed their livestock in the winter, we’ll manage a few weeks bu…” She cut herself off, stifling a sob. Everyone was sitting on and around the decking in front of the farm house. Some folks were tending to burnt hands, others were resting their eyes after the commotion. The family were still in shock.
“I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t showed up.” The farmer, Tim Garrow was his name, said to the mercenary woman.
“We saw your company earlier.” Mr Attorcop interjected, “What made you separate?” The mercenaries eyed him with cold gazes. Lilian felt uneasy when they spoke, they looked at people as if they were… things.
“We saw the smoke and were instructed to investigate.” The woman with the cow helmet spoke with an accent similar to the people of Hundsberg, only softer. Tim Garrow seemed to be plucking up the courage to say something.
“I’m forever in your debt m… my lady. But I’m afraid I’ve nought to give you for your services, save my gratitude. I’m aware of how you make your living.” The woman looked at him and took off her helmet. Fair hair unfurled from under it and her countenance seemed to soften with it.
“This event can be free of charge.” The farmer’s relief was palpable, “But,” the woman continued, “The man said they would be back. Perhaps they are coming back tonight. We can stay for one night before we must get back to our company. But we will not stay for free.” The proposition hung in the air. Lilian was letting Fritha drink from her cup, but even she turned to look as she sensed the shift in atmosphere. It was not as threatening as setting a barn on fire, but it was almost as cold. The farmer nodded.
“You’ve already done so much. I cannot ask any more of any of you. My family have lived here a long time, we’ve not much, but we’ll handle ourselves if they come back.” Mr Attorcop narrowed his eyes.
“You keep saying you don’t have anything to give. Why were those men so convinced that you had money here?”
“I don’t know! They just showed up and started threatening us and demanding we give them a ton of coin. We have a bit stashed away for a bad winter but it’s really not much and giving it to them could be a death sentence for the farm. It would have been the same as losing the barn so alls I could do was watch it burn.” Everyone thought on his words for a moment. Lilian noticed one of his sons staring at his feet. His eyes glistening with tears. The mood was about to change, Lilian sensed the summation of things with the awkward shifting of weight and occasional glances at the road. Mr Hayes even breathed in a long breath ready to give his condolences and be on his way, when the farmer’s son spoke up.
“It were my fault.” The young man stood up, clutching his loose shirt and looking as though he was about to cry.
“Shut up Ben.” His brother stood beside him.
“JEB…” Both men were cut off by their father. His tone was deadly serious. “What’s all this now? What do you know?” The two boys were the picture of shame. Their cheeks flushed and their eyes darted to the ground and sky. It was Ben who spoke up first.
“Few days back, when me and Jeb were in town. We had a bit to drink. Nothing too crazy, just a few jars at the horns. But there were these men, big blokes saying they’d heard Freedos farmers are rich cos o’ the city trade.” At this point he stuttered and fiddled with his shirt. Lilian could sense his father’s anger rising. Ben continued, “Well I’d had a bit to drink and I wanted to do us proud so I told em we were the richest farmers about. Best product, biggest house.” He plunged his face into his hands, his voice coming out muffled. “I must have drawn em right here and now they think we got a ton of cash to give em. Dad I’m so sorry.” A silence fell. Lilian expected Farmer Garrow to explode in a fire worse than the one they’d just put out. But he simply sighed.
“Well. If that’s what’s put the idea in their head, there won’t be any dissuading them. And I dare say you lot showing up hasn’t managed to persuade anyone that we’re dirt poor.” He pointed at the three mercenaries. Lilian gathered that hiring even three of the hundred would set most folks back an arm and a leg. The mercenaries showed no remorse. They had worked for free once that day, that was enough of an apology. Suddenly, Mr Attorcop spoke,
“We should assume that they were serious about their threat. Right now it doesn’t matter what conclusion they’ve come to, or how, if they plan on taking the farm then we need to assume that’s happening tonight.” He looked at Mr Hayes and his family, “I know the market starts soon, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave…” Mr Hayes cut him off.
“Ooooh no. I may never have met the Garrows before today, but round here we look after our own. I’ll stay and help how I can.” Mr Garrow’s chest swelled with pride and appreciation.
“Much obliged Mr…”
“Hayes.” Mr Garrow thought on the name.
“You’re not Sam’s boy are ye?” Mr Hayes nodded.
“I am and proud to be. We took over the marrow farm two years back. You knew my da?”
“I did. Good man. I was sad to hear of his passing.” The two farmers shared a respectful moment.
“How strange that you have a connection like that!” Mr Attorcop continued, Lilian sensed a hint of mock surprise in his voice, “So if most of us from the caravan stay then we should be a match for what we saw today. The danger arises if they decide to get reinforcements.” At this he turned to the mercenary woman.
“I didn’t catch your names.” They each looked at him, stern and stoic as ever.
“My name is Solveig.”
“Solveig. If you and your colleagues were to stay, then any reinforcements shouldn’t be a problem.” The woman, Solveig, barely let him finish.
“A rate must be negotiated.” Mr Attorcop smiled a rare charming grin.
“I don’t suppose you’d accept a heartfelt appeal to your humanity.” Solveig’s expression did not change.
“No.” She said, “We do accept gold though. If you have no gold then we must be leaving.” At that, one of the younger members of the caravan spoke up. He was a scrawny man that Lilian had barely noticed on the journey. He had a cart of spun and dyed wool and wore a silly woolen hat with a large brim. His voice cracked as he spoke, “You leave now and you might as well drive the swords in us yourself.” Everyone looked at him, but no one disagreed. The comment didn’t seem to bother the mercenaries. Solveig simply looked at him as if… as if he was nothing more than a noise. Like the buzz of a fly. It was then that Lilian had an idea. She got up and walked over to the three red and silver soldiers. Fritha instinctively followed her. She reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out her gold sovereign.
“Here.” She said, “This is all I have. I’m not sure if it will be enough but you’re welcome to it. I’m going to stay and help these people. I would like it if you stayed as well.” Lilian knew their chances of survival would double with three highly trained soldiers on their side. She hadn’t seen anything worth spending the coin on in her travels, this seemed like a worthy cause though. Solveig looked down. For an instant, Lilian thought she saw a sliver of character poke through her stony front. Perhaps it was Lilian’s selfless act, or more probably, it was just that she was surprised to see a child handing over such a large sum. She took it in her left hand and nodded.
“I’m sure this will do.” A palpable sense of relief quickly spread around the group. There was little time to react however, as Solveig addressed them..
“With the acceptance of this coin I confirm a contract between the Garrow family and three members of The Ursus Centurion of Helvetis. We will fight until tomorrow morning at Sunrise or until we believe the contract to be over. Unless anyone has any disagreement, I will be taking control of the operation.” She paused, as if waiting for someone to interject. No one did, many people seemed happy for her to take charge. Lilian looked at some of the pitchforks and blunt spades lying around and wondered if they were really prepared for what was coming.
“Good. I suggest we eat and rest for one hour. Then we begin preparations for defense. I will need all able men and fighters to meet me here. Those not willing to fight must find somewhere distant to hide.” Mr Garrow interjected,
“There’s a store shed through the trees over there. Big enough to hide a cart behind and there’s a stove to keep warm.”
“Good.” Solveig replied, “If you don’t fight, you go there. You don’t light the stove though. Smoke will be seen.” As she said this last part her eyes fell on Lilian, as if she expected her to understand and take heed. Hang on, thought Lilian, does she expect her to hide? Lilian was about to speak up and protest but Solveig continued.
“I need all weapons here and any sacs of manure that you have to spare.” This confused Lilian but Mr Garrow nodded, “Now eat and rest. We begin soon.” Various groups began pulling away and fetching food from their packs. Lilian felt a hand grab her left arm and pull her back towards Mr Hayes’ cart. She looked up to see Mr Attorcop.
“That was…” He faltered, trying to find the right words, “A noble thing you did Lilian. I’m sure the Garrow family appreciates it.” Lilian felt as though she was in some kind of trouble. But she pushed the feeling back, it was her money and her decision.
“I don’t like bullies.” She replied, “Besides, what happened to you not caring? Before Solveig arrived you were ready to leave the Garrow’s to die.” She hadn’t forgotten his words.
“I stand by what I said.” Replied Mr Attocop, “You’re impulsive and reckless. If you had tried to defend the Garrow’s you might have ended up with a sword in your side. You didn’t even…” He sighed a long and controlled breath, apparently trying to suppress some anger or was it fear? “You have the right intentions Lilian. I admire that. But you need to pick your battles. Literally. There is no shame in admitting you can’t help or you can’t win. How can you help others if you’re dead, hm? You need to learn to judge your own abilities. You rushed over here with nothing but good intentions.”
“And Fritha.” Lilian protested.
“Yes and Fritha. But she has teeth, and claws, you have…” He made a gesture at her, waving his arms as if pointing to nothing and everything. Lilian was fed up,
“So what, you want me to fight only when I can win? Wouldn’t that mean I’m always fighting people weaker than me? THAT’S called bullying.” Mr Attorcop shook his head.
“No Lilian. Do you remember what I said when I first told you about the lunar essence? About how power comes from advantage? Every winner has some kind of advantage. Even if it’s just a scrappy attitude, that can always make a difference. The key is to arm yourself with as many advantages as you can, ready to draw from a huge well of hidden gifts and abilities that can adapt to any situation. The key to fighting is the same as the key to politics, only reveal your moves when they are least expected and most needed.” Mr Attorcop started rummaging around his pack. A medium sized black bag with silver studs where the handle met the sack. He pulled out an object wrapped in a grey cloth and handed it to Lilian.
“I know you’re going to want to fight tonight and it seems like I won’t be able to stop you. But at least I can arm you.” Lilian unfolded the cloth to find a long knife nestled inside it. The blade was almost the length of her forearm, which for someone of Lilian’s height meant that it was practically a short sword. Its steel blade reflected Lilian’s wide eyed stare back at her. The handle was light and bronze and looked like the body of a short snake, the scales making a decent grip and the blade itself protruding from the snake’s mouth. It even had four little fangs that gripped the blade. It was beautiful and familiar.
“This was Kissandras knife.” Lilian turned it and rubbed its edge on her thumb. It gave the satisfying scraping sound of a knife sharp enough to cut an onion in one easy swipe.
“A good-looking blade.” Lilian looked up to see Solveig approaching from around the cart.
“The snake is a good ally. It hides until it strikes, unseen and faster than the eye can track.” Lilian covered the blade again and smiled at Solveig. She had put her helmet back on and Lilian couldn’t help but look into its angry eyes.
“Is the cow better than the snake?” Lilian asked, looking up to the helmet. Solveig smiled.
“Better at what?” Lilian wasn’t sure how to respond. Solveig looked to Mr Attorcop.
“You are a man of science?” Mr Attorcop nodded slightly.
“You will help me with the manure.” Mr Attorcop seemed to understand and nodded in agreement. Lilian wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to but didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to ask Solveig something.
“Will you show me how to use it?” She held up the cloth with the blade in it. Solveig looked amused.
“Once everything is ready and only if there is time.” Lilian smiled. Solveig began to walk away when Lilian asked another question.
“Are we going to be ok? Those men from earlier, they looked… nasty.” Solveig walked back and knelt in front of Lilian. Her helmet dropped to Lilian’s eye level. Lilian could see the cow’s angry eyes and the detail shaped into its nose and ears. It was a beautiful piece of equipment. Solveig looked at her and spoke softly.
“Men, nasty or nice, die every day. Let me ask you, do you think more of them die from snakes,” She gestured to Lilian’s knife, “Or from cows.” Solveig had a fire in her eyes as she said this. Lilian was blindsided by the question. As Solveig got up and turned to walk away, Lilian almost called out her answer, she was going to say snakes. Surely more men die from snake bites she thought. But she caught herself as she remembered the two farmers discussing Sam’s death. She remembered the many fences around cow fields and the sheer number and size of the animals kept behind them. This realisation both frightened and reassured her.
A few hours later Solveig called for everyone to meet at the farm house. They had set up barricades along the road leading up to it. Mr Attorcop had helped with those while Lilian had been moving the carts to the store shed. She had helped Anna and Mrs Hayes make the shed as comfortable as possible and they stayed there while Lilian returned to the farmhouse with Fritha trotting beside her. The farmers had gathered various pitchforks, sharp looking rakes and hoes. They’d even found a couple of hunting bows which the two mercenary men were busy checking. The team had been boarding up windows, laying bear traps in the grass and generally preparing the place for a small war. Lilian wondered if this was all a bit much, but reminded herself of what Mr Attorcop had said, that every advantage counts. She felt the weight of her new knife tucked into the back of her belt. She had practised getting it out without cutting herself and was growing more used to carrying it with every hour that went by. Even Fritha had been unsure at first, giving it a proper sniff before letting Lilian tuck it into her belt. Solveig stood on the steps leading up to the farm house door. The sun had set but the various torches dotted around the yard cast a flickering light onto her calm face.
“Tonight we are ghosts.” She started, “We make this farm look like it has been abandoned. We pretend to have run into hiding. We let them take the paths we have set out for them. You know where your traps are and you know your signal to spring them. Our goal is to protect the farm and each other, which means that if our opponents run away then we have victory. Let them run from the ghosts that haunt this place. Let us strike fear into their hearts and make them think twice before attacking innocent folk.” Lilian felt pride and admiration swell in her heart. Solveig looked glorious in her dazzling silver, the torchlight burning brightly in the helmet cow’s eyes. Lilian wanted to applaud, but Solveig’s face grew serious.
“There may be times when you are faced with a difficult choice. There is no shame in not wanting to end a life. But know this. Tonight, there may come a time when not ending a man’s life means that he will end yours. Don’t let indecision make that choice for you. Make it now and save yourself regret. Understand?” Lilian thought hard. She had never considered the actual possibility of killing someone. The knife felt heavy in her belt. She thought for a few moments and made her choice, quietly and to herself. She absent mindedly touched Fritha behind her ears. Solveig wished everyone luck and people started walking towards their designated posts. Solveig looked at Lilian and beckoned her to her side. Lilian gave Mr Attorcop a look, she nodded solemnly and he nodded back. She knew that he had the choice to go and she was thankful that he’d decided to stay. She looked back at Solveig and ran to catch her up. She was heading for the barn, one of the mercenary men walked next to her. When Lilian caught them up they walked in silence until they reached the barn. The man from the hundred, who was tall and broad shouldered and wore a helmet shaped like a bat’s head, heaved the barn doors open and waited until they were inside to shut them. He kept watch while Lilian and Solveig spoke.
“Show me how you fight.” Solveig spoke softly, presumably wanting to keep noise to a minimum since they were laying an ambush. Lilian wrinkled her nose at the smoky smell, there was a glimmer of starlight that shone through the burnt roof, but apart from that there was no light. Lilian could see Solveig’s armour but had to squint to see her expression. Timidly, Lilian brought out her new dagger and shifted her weight into a guarding stance. Fritha seemed to recognise it from her training and crouched behind Lilian’s legs, the hairs on her back raising preemptively. Solveig looked intently at her. Not a single attack had been made, but Lilian suddenly felt every potential weakness was exposed. Solveig’s eyes pierced through darkness and defense. In a silent flash of movement Solveig was holding an axe in each hand. Lilian’s heart began to beat heavy with nerves. Her eyes darted from the axes, to Solveig’s face, to her feet, to the barn. Solveig looked only at Lilian’s eyes.
“Your eyes give you away.” She said, “Look into my eyes and nowhere else. If you look at my right side, be sure to strike my left, understand?” Lilan nodded and focused her gaze on Solveig’s eyes, or at least, where she presumed her eyes were. In the dim light, all she could see were the eyes of the cow on her helmet. They moved closer and Lilian stepped back, Fritha effortlessly getting out of her way as she did. The two stepped around each other, occasionally Solveig would shift her arms or her stance. Lilian would react to every shift like a potential attack, jerking her hands up in defence or ducking before anything was thrown her way. She felt foolish, bouncing around while Solveig moved so fluidly.
“Breathe, find a rhythm.” She said, “when you react like this,” She mimicked Lilian’s quick tensing, bringing her shoulders up and her arms in close to her chest, “you give me a window in the off beat. Watch.” Solveig put her right foot out quickly, Lilian thought she was dashing in for a right slash and her body twitched into a defense, but half a second afterwards Lilian found herself staring at the blade of Solveig’s left axe. “Your defense is good, but only if every attack is true. One feint and you’re done.” She took the blade away and Lilian sighed in relief. Fritha stepped between them growling her strange jangling growl. Solveig’s eyes narrowed at the strange sound. Lilian spoke up before Solveig could ask a question.
“How do I counter a feint?” Solveig snapped out of her focus on Fritha.
“You wait until the last moment to defend. You stay calm. You keep your weapon close to your body and you shift your whole upper body, not just your arms, when you parry.” She brought her axes in close to her chest and demonstrated her pivoting defences. Lilian watched as her shoulders span left and right in attempts to dodge an imaginary enemy. Just then, the barn lit up and Solveig’s shifting, silver form could be seen clearly dodging and parrying, dancing to no music in the light of the moon which was now directly above the barn. Lilian wanted to watch for longer, she was raptured by the grace and power. She could have watched all night, but just then the mercenary with the bat helmet turned to them both and spoke,
“They’re here.”
Benlunar - Episode 19
Lilian sees an army.
The Roads of Alicium run through it like veins
From small paths down mountains to city built lanes
They’ll guide you home or take you away
Or make you visit village that begs you to stay
Up through the pass, down through the grass
Stick to your map, veer not from the path
Or perhaps take an unfamiliar bend
After all, the aim of the song is the tune not the end
As Lilian Lausanne, Cromwell Attorcop and Fritha the Feinhound continued to travel over the next few days, signs of civilisation began to increase. Small roadside taverns and even little villages would appear more and more as they got closer to the country’s capital. It was during an overnight stay in one such village that they met Mr Hayes and his family. The Hayes’ were marrow farmers from an area called Crookleford. It took Lilian a few conversations to get the name right as Mr Hayes’ accent was as thick and heavy as country butter.
“We’re just on our way to Freedos to sell the harvest then we’re heading back. Unless something keeps us there.” Mr Hayes set his heavy mug of beer down on the table with a clunk. Some of it sloshed over the brim and splashed the stained wood. Mrs Hayes tutted as she drew her hand back from getting wet.
“We’ll be glad of the company. The roads have been kind to us so far but bigger groups are always safer.” Mr Attorcop nodded slowly in agreement. Lilian was only half paying attention. She was more interested in the musician who was tuning her fiddle near the Inn’s fireplace, it seemed as though she was about to play something and Lilian hadn’t heard music in many weeks. She was sitting opposite a girl called Anna, the Hayes’ daughter. Anna was a little older than Lilian, possibly 16 or 17. She had straight black hair and a round, pretty face. Her two front teeth were large and visible whenever she smiled. Which was all the time. Currently she was smiling at Fritha who was snoozing under the table. Lilian had managed to train her to wear a shaggy brown coat that made her look like a large brown dog to the untrained eye. As long as they kept her low and calm she could mingle in crowds without too much fuss.
“What kind of dog is she?” asked Anna, snapping Lilian out of her daydream.
“Hm? Oh… I’m not sure. My… family friend breeds them in the mountains. They’re trained to rescue people from the snow.” Everyone had heard stories of such dogs and Lilian knew that a little familiarity wouldn’t hurt when describing Fritha to strangers. She had used the line on a traveller after his pack donkey had been startled by Fritha’s size. It seemed to comfort people as snow dogs were famously good natured. Anna nodded her head.
“Is it true they have little barrels round their necks with spirits in em?” Lilian smiled.
“Sometimes, yes.” The two girls fell silent as the fiddler started her first song. Lilian watched and listened and wondered if she should say something to fill the growing silence. She had never really been close friends with any girls. She found other girls irritating a lot of the time. Anna seemed nice though.
“Do you have a dog on the farm?” Asked Lilian. Anna shook her head.
“No. We got cats though, cos of the mice and rats. I like cats.”
“Me too.” Said Lilian, and she felt a pang in her stomach as she remembered her neighbour’s cat, Tuffson, a beautiful grey creature who was extremely friendly, but about as much good at catching mice as a particularly furry cushion.
“How comes your heading to Freedos?” Asked Anna as she stroked Fritha’s ears.
“My uncle works there, I’m going with him to help.” Days on the road had given Mr Attorcop and Lilian time to work on their backstory. They had also come up with a plan as to what do if they were separated, attacked by bandits or even kidnapped. Most plans involved them being their secret alter egos. Lilian hadn’t known why there was so much need for secrecy, but then she remembered their encounter with Kissandra the assassin in Benlunar, and decided that secret identities, at least for the time being, were probably a good idea.
“What about you?” Lilian asked quickly so as to avoid further questions about her work in Freedos.
“What do you mean?” Asked Anna.
“Well do you sell the harvest in a market? Or to shops? I’ve never been to Freedos.” Anna understood.
“Oh no, I don’t really help much with the selling. We’re quite well known in Checkered square market so the produce sells itself really. I like to come along and see the city though.” Her eyes darted to her parents, making sure they were deep in conversation before she lowered her voice and leant forward, conspiratorially.
“But this time, Da said I had to come along and help and that I was sure to dress nice.” Lilian was curious.
“Why?”
“Well, I think it’s cos he’s looking for me to get married.” A string on the musician’s fiddle snapped and Lilian’s mouth dropped open. She almost shouted, “MARRI…” But Anna shushed her by closing her hand over Lilian’s mouth. Anna giggled.
“It’s only a guess. I’m of age after all.”
“Yes but…” Lilian lowered her voice. “Do you want to get married?” Anna shrugged.
“I suppose. Would be nice to meet a noble man and be whisked off my feet like in the stories. A decent dowry would really help the farm and Lizzie Wickle, a girl from my village, says I could marry rich on account as I’m quite pretty.” Lilian didn’t know what to say. Anna can’t have been much older than her and she had never even considered getting married, let alone make a detailed plan about it. Anna seemed excited though so Lilian didn’t press her with questions, not wanting to sew seeds of doubt. The adults seemed to have come to an agreement as the fiddler struck up another tune. Within less than an hour the entire inn was singing old travel songs. Mr Attorcop finished his drink and shouted to Lilian above the din that he was going to bed and that she should probably try and sleep soon as well. They were going to join the Hayes’ caravan in the morning and they would be leaving early. Lilian nodded and waited until the song was finished before tapping Fritha on the neck and leading her up to their room. They got some strange looks as they mingled through the crowd but Lilian was quick enough so as to not let Fritha stay in anyone’s sights for too long. By the time she reached the back stair case of the Inn the fiddler had started up again and the familiar tune was met with raucous cheers that dimmed with each step Lilian took up to the first floor. She found her little room that she had been designated earlier that evening and she got ready for bed. The bed was not exactly luxurious, but compared to sleeping on the mat of her travel tent, it felt positively royal. Even Fritha seemed excited to be curling up on a warm carpet next to a stove fireplace. Lilian smiled as her head hit the pillow the songs and faces of her fellow travellers still whirling around her head.
Lilian slept so well that she had some difficulty waking up the next morning. Mr Attorcop had to wrap sharply on her door several times before she realised that she wasn’t dreaming the sound. She mumbled groggily that she was awake and opened her eyes to see an anxious Fritha pawing at the door. Her coat was a strange orange colour dappled with blue spots. Lilian remarked at how her colours often seemed to be most vibrant in the mornings. She was sorry to have to go through her colour changing training to make sure she was fit to mix with the other travellers, many of whom were doubtless already awake even at this early hour. Minutes laters, Lilian was chewing a crust of bread whilst Fritha relieved herself behind a tree. Lilian watched as the Hayes family and a couple of other folk loaded up their carts and bridled their horses, getting ready for the day’s travel. When Fritha had finished they approached Mrs Hayes who was smiling.
“Nice day for it.” She remarked. Lilian looked up to the blue sky and nodded.
“Let’s hope it keeps it up.” Lilian never really knew what to say when people talked to her about the weather, but she’d heard that phrase once and found that it fit in most situations. The opposite of course being ‘let’s hope it changes quickly’. Just then, as she approached the cart, the horse that Mrs Hayes was tending let out a loud whinny. The chestnut mare stomped her feet and began jerking her neck back. Mrs Hayes was caught off guard and stumbled as she tried to calm the animal. Lilian looked on, confused. She noticed that it’s brown eyes were wide and fixed on Fritha.
“There now Honey.” Mrs Hayes said in a reassuring tone. “S’only a dog, albeit a big one.” Lilian looked down at Fritha who was yawning and looking about, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on the horse’s mood.
“Sorry,” Lilian started to lead Fritha aside, out of the horse’s eyeline.
“Don’t worry my love, Honey’s always been a nervous nag. I’ve seen her jump at her own reflection in a puddle.” Mrs Hayes laughed and Lilian led Fritha towards the back of the cart, reminding herself that she shouldn’t take Fritha too close to horses in the future. To the human eye she might look like a big dog, but to a horse’s nose, gods know how she must seem. Within the space of half an hour everyone was packed and ready to go. Mr Hayes seemed to have appointed himself troupe leader and he gave a loud whistle to signify departure. With the Hayes family and a few stragglers, Lilian counted 11 people in their caravan. Most were farmers or traders making the trip to the city to sell their goods. From talking to everyone Lilian learned that these big city markets were essentially a farmer’s main source of income, they couldn’t afford to get robbed or break down on the journey, hence the safety in numbers of the caravan.
“Are the roads near Freedos really that dangerous?” Asked Lilian. It was halfway through the morning and she was speaking to a middle aged man with a greying beard, who was wearing a leather jerkin and a small sword on his belt. His name was Brackus and Lilian wondered if his dark skin meant that he was from the desserts to the south.
“They can be.” He replied, keeping his eyes down on the road so as to navigate potholes as he walked. “That’s why I work with caravans quite a bit. Petty thieves see a few swords dotted amongst the group, they usually think twice about taking a chance. The farmers group together and pay me to keep watch, it’s an extra expense but usually worthwhile if it means they don’t lose their whole stock.” Lilian nodded in understanding. She watched Brackus scan the horizon with sharp blue eyes. They practically shone out from his dark face.
“Have you ever been in a fight?” She had been hesitant to ask the question as she wasn’t sure if it was something personal. Brackus didn’t seem to mind. He was a man of few words but opened up once he got on the subject of his work.
“I used to be in the Zandt military so yes I’ve been in a few fights. These days I hope there are more fights behind me than ahead though.”
“Do you ever go back to Zandt?” Lilian asked, curious as to what the mysterious deserts must be like to live in. Brackus shook his head.
“Not for some time. Doma invaded 2 years ago and it’s still dangerous to go back.”
“Doma?” Asked Lilian. For the first time, Brackus looked directly at her, apparently shocked by her ignorance.
“The kingdom to the west. Doma.” Lilian was embarrassed and so pretended to have misheard him.
“Oh, yes of course.” She mumbled, hoping her face wasn’t getting too red. This seemed to assuage Brackus. The two chatted about less serious things as the hours dragged by. Lilian mentioned that she wanted to learn how to fight and Brackus agreed to show her a few things if they ended up having to camp down for the night.
“It’s good for girls to fight.” He said, “In Alicium too few girls can fight. And in Freedos, ha!” He gave a loud shouting laugh, “They only know how to fight with words. I will give you a secret.” He leant down and lowered his voice to a mock whisper, “There has never been a word sharper than a blade, hahaha.” Brackus chuckled to himself. Lilian smiled. The phrase made her think of some of the arguments she used to have with her classmates in Madame Streng’s school. She always got so angry when the other children could think of witty or mean things to say. She could never think of anything clever and usually ended up shoving someone instead. Of course, hours later she would think of the perfect thing to say, but by then it was too late. She would have gotten into trouble for fighting and the mean kid in question would be let off. She looked over at Brackus’ scabbard strapped to his belt. It was leather bound wood studded with iron beetles. It was about the length of her arm and curved back like a crescent moon. They were walking near the front of the caravan. Mr Attorcop was sitting by Mr Hayes on top of the marrow cart a little way behind them. The sun was at its highest point in the sky and Lilian’s stomach was growling at her. Fritha was happily darting in and out of the tall grass by the road, thankfully keeping her brown shaggy coat on. Lilian looked up to Brackus and was about to ask him a question, when she noticed his eyes narrowed and focused on the road ahead. She followed his gaze and saw a figure on horseback coming from the opposite direction. The wind picked up at the same moment and the tall spring grass ebbed and flowed making it look like the rider was cutting through a deep green ocean. As they approached, Lilian saw that it was a man dressed in red and wearing silver plated armour. His horse was armoured as well, its massive head reflecting the sun’s light by way of polished metal plates. Lilian could hear the rider now, each of the horse’s thudding steps rang and clattered the layered plates. It was a majestic site. Lilian’s mind instantly jumped to the stories of knights and dragon slayers she had loved as an infant. She initially thought the rider carried a spear, but now she saw that it was a long pole with a flag on its top, flapping and dancing in the wind. The flag was also red but had a large black bear streaked across it. Lilian turned to ask Brackus if he knew what the bear signified but when she did, she realised that he was no longer walking beside her. She turned back to see him in the middle of the road, his eyes wide and much of the colour drained from his face. The entire caravan had come to a halt and Lilian instinctively called Fritha to her side as she began to jog back.
“Who is he?” She asked as she got close to Brackus. He snapped out of a reverie and looked down at her. As he opened his mouth to say something, she heard a deafening shout from the rider behind her.
“MAKE WAY!” The red and armoured man was closer now and Lilian could see that his metal breast plate was untarnished, unscratched and practically good as new. He had a dark beard and a helmet on that had tight curled ram’s horns coming off it and down the side of the rider’s face. Lilian was stunned by his presence and his cry. She wanted to turn and run back to Mr Attorcop but the rider’s second shout forced her to act differently.
“MAKE WAY ON THE ROAD!” The cry echoed towards the caravan and everyone, including Lilian sprang into action and started to pull the horses and carts off the road and into the long grass. Lilian jumped into the long grass as she watched Mr Hayes struggle with his mare Honey who was confused and having difficulty pulling the cart over the lip that marked the edge of the road. Lilian wondered at what might be causing the commotion, the road was not a small country lane, it could easily have two caravan’s pass by each other without trouble. Why then were they being forced off to one side?
“Who is he?” Lilian asked Brackus finally, now that most of the carts were in the grass. Brackus still seemed distracted, his eyes flicking from the rider to the rest of the party.
“His flag is the black bear.” Lilian could see that, but she did not know what it meant. Once again, she would have to betray her ignorance if she was going to get answers. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but it was the strange rider that gave her the answer.
“MAKE WAY. DO NOT INTERFERE WITH THE MARCH. MAKE WAY FOR THE HUNDRED.”
And then Lilian saw them.
Coming from down the road, as a sea of red and silver, was an army. Not a large army, but clearly a formidable one. Each soldier carried a pike, as tall as three men on each other’s shoulders and it was these that Lilian saw first. As the front unit approached Lilian could see their black boots, loose red trousers and shirts and various weapons strapped to their backs and belts. Not every member carried a pike, dotted between these spearmen were smaller groups of fighters with only axes and swords. It was when one of these groups got close enough that Lilian realised that the force was not only made up of men, but several women were peppered through the ranks. As they marched closer, the steady rhythm of steps got louder and louder. It was a quick beat and not one soldier missed a step. Lilian wondered at how they could all maintain such a rapid pace for so long. If she had been walking so quickly she thought, she would have had to stop for the day several hours ago. Now she understood why they were forced off the road. An army like this was clearly going somewhere in a hurry and could not afford to have to slow down. Lilian dreaded to think at what might have happened if a cart had broken down and they had not been able to clear the way. The sound of boots and clanking armour was deafening as the army walked past. Lilian marvelled at their helmets. Some were shaped like dog heads, others had silver wings sprouting from the sides. She even saw one that curled round the face of a woman with octopus tentacles made of beaten brass. None of the soldiers looked at the caravan as they passed but Lilian studied each of them in wide-eyed amazement. Once they had gone, it was as though the caravan breathed out a collective sigh. Slowly, the horses and carts were guided back on the road and the group continued their comparatively slow journey. Lilian was overflowing with questions but she wanted to make sure Brackus had finished his duties in helping the farmers before pestering him. Once they were well and truly back underway, Lilian fell into step with Brackus once again.
“Who were they?” She asked. Brackus kept his voice low.
“They are the hundred. The Empress must be getting desperate.”
“Are they the army of Freedos?” said Lilian. Brackus raised his eyebrows.
“No no. Freedos has a much bigger army than that. The hundred are mercenaries. An army for hire. Very good, very expensive.”
“Mercenaries.” replied Lilian, “Like you?” This got a good laugh out of Brackus.
“No no, not like me. Sometimes I fight for money. Maybe thieves, maybe drunk fools. But I don’t fight soldiers, armies three times the size of my group. I know how to use a sword but the hundred? They are a band that plays weapons like instruments. They say that if you hear their song, you are already dead.” Lilian looked back, but all she could see was the settling dust left in the wake of the hundred.
Lilian fell back and climbed the side of Mr Hayes’ cart to sit with him and Mr Attorcop. She kept an eye on Fritha who had gone back to rummaging around the tall grass.
“What did you make of them?” Mr Attorcop spoke as Lilian clambered onto the small bench atop the cart.
“They looked quite...serious.” She replied.
“Ha!” Mr Hayes laughed. “That’s a good way of putting it. I had heard they were marching to Freedos, I suppose they’ve been given their orders from the Empress by now.” He clicked his tongue at Honey the horse, trying to distract her from a puddle she’d found.
“I hadn’t realised the war had come this far.” Said Mr Attorcop.
“Not yet.” Mr Hayes replied, “But it’s on its way. I reckon the hundred are off to guard the Triford pass, maybe even Cutter’s bridge.” He flicked his string whip as he spoke and Mr Attorcop nodded solemnly. Lilian was becoming more and more aware of just how little she knew of the politics and the goings on of the wider world. Benlunar had never felt particularly connected to all that so she hadn’t bothered to ever ask or find out. Travelling to Freedos however, meant that she would be in the middle of it all, the cradle of culture and the home of Alicium’s nobility. She wouldn’t be able to move without bumping into a political situation. Lilian smiled, excited by the prospect of being that close to the actions and decisions that kept the world turning.
After a short break for food and water, the caravan continued on their journey. Lilian had expected to see the city in the distance at any moment, but Mr Attorcop reminded her that they might still be a day or two away. The grassy plains gave way to fenced paddocks and dozens of dozy cows occasionally looked up from their grazing to watch the group pass by. Lilian played a game with herself, trying to count how many were brown and how many were black. Occasionally they would pass smaller fields with pigs squealing in excitement, thinking they were about to be fed. Once they even saw a herd of funny looking creatures that looked like big sheep with long necks. Lilian tried walking up to one and feeding it but it just took one good look at her and spat in her face before running away. The caravan watched the whole thing and everybody laughed. Lilian laughed as well, she’d gotten quite dirty since their stop in Hundsberg, what was a little chewed cud on top of the rest of the muck and mud?
At early evening the group fell silent, admiring the pink and purple sky at sunset. A murmur however started to travel down the troupe as black smoke was spotted up ahead. Lilian stood on her seat to see if she could find its origin.
“There are some buildings over there.” She reported, “Maybe a farm? I think…” She squinted and strained her eyes, “I think one of them is on fire.” This sent louder whispers through the group. Lilian didn’t want to make any assumptions, but by now she could clearly see an orange glow catching on the base of the pillar of smoke. She looked at Mr Attorcop.
“What should we do?” She asked. Mr Attorcop looked thoughtful.
“Mmm it might just be a barn fire. Not much we could do to help if that was the case.” Lilian felt a pang of anger. “What do you mean, nothing we could do? We could at least try. We could at least try and grasp the essence of the situation.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. Mr Attorcop didn’t have to look back at her to understand.
“We could try. But we wouldn’t want to lose anything important.” Thankfully Mr Hayes came to the rescue.
“You could take Anna’s pony, ride on ahead if you like. We could meet you there. Might be that they’d let us spend the night in a barn or on something soft if we help out. Always better to kip with more people around.” Lilian grinned and began to hop down off the cart. She whistled loudly and Fritha came bounding out of the grass to her side. She had a rat in her mouth which she promptly gulped down in 3 big snaps of her jaws.
“Lilian,” Mr Attorcop called out, “I believe I’ve spoken to you before about recklessly running into situations.” Lilian was in the middle of helping Anna down off her chestnut pony when she paused for thought. If someone needed help then she wasn’t about to ignore them. She considered putting her foot in the stirrups and just galloping away. But she remembered what had happened in Hundsberg when she rushed off into the night without thinking. Mr Attorcop was slowly getting off the cart and reached Lilian by the time she was sitting in the saddle. Lilian looked down at him with wide eyes. She even considered trying to cry but thought that might be a bit much. Mr Attorcop breathed out a long sigh and looked back at Mr Hayes,
“I think the road turns off a few minutes away, we’ll cut across the field and meet you there.” Lilian’s heart leapt. Mr Attorcop looked back at her.
“Well move back then.” Lilian shuffled back in the saddle and made room for Mr Attorcop to sit and take the reins. He clicked his tongue, dug his heels and the chestnut pony lurched into a run. Mr Attorcop steered it off the road and onto the field, the grass was short and so there was little chance of potholes or mole hills breaking the pony’s leg. Fritha galloped by their side and Lilian was thankful for the blinkers fitted to the pony’s head. She didn’t want it spooking at this speed. In just a few minutes they’d closed a significant distance between them and the buildings. They could clearly see now that it was a small group of barns, stores and a farmhouse. One of the big barns still had smoke spewing from its open doors and roof. There were people milling around its base, at first Lilian assumed they were the farmers trying to put the fire out, but as they got closer, she could see that most of the figures were just watching the barn burn, some were even stepping in front of people with buckets of water, preventing them from entering the barn. Mr Attorcop pulled on the reins and slowed the pony down to a walk.
“What are they doing?” Asked Lilian. She couldn’t make out any faces clearly, but the people in front of the barn doors were men, dressed in dark clothes. Possibly leather armour, thought Lilian. One of them had a sword out, Lilian could see it occasionally catching the light of the setting sun. The man had the sword out in front of him and he was using it to gesture back and forth to the barn. He was speaking too, but they were too far away for Lilian to make out what they were hearing. Then she realised something.
“I’m going to try and hear what they’re saying.” She said to Mr Attorcop. He nodded and replied,
“I don’t think they’ve seen us yet. I’m going to take the pony to that copse.” He gestured to a small group of trees off to the right hand side of the buildings. As she felt the pony change direction, Lilian closed her eyes and focused. With all the practise she had been doing, the state of hyper attention came quickly. At first it was difficult to ignore the sounds of the pony’s hooves, breathing and heartbeat. But after about 30 seconds she managed to stretch her attention out towards the burning barn. The fire cracked and fizzed in her ears, masking the dim sound of speech. Eventually Lilian tuned the fire out enough to be able to catch what the men were saying. It was hard to link voices to the various movements and heartbeats but Lilian found that by focusing on the ringing and swishing of the iron sword she could pick out what the wielder was saying.
“You heard.” The words were dim but the longer the gruff voice spoke, the clearer it became.
“No one goes near the barn until we get our money. So you can put that bucket down and go back inside.” Lilian could hear the water sloshing about the wooden bucket, it was next to the fearful, quickening heart of the farmer. Lilian heard him speak next, his voice was shaky but the sound was clear as a bell.
“You scum. You let that burn down and you’re killing us. My family need…” He was cut off by the gruff voice.
“Your family need some sense knocked into ‘em. The longer you’re out here chattin’ the more your precious barn burns.” Lilian opened her eyes and whispered low and quick to Mr Attorcop.
“They’re holding the barn hostage.”
“How many?” Mr Attorcop replied.
“9, maybe 12 men. Some have swords. The farmer is trying to put out the fire but they’re demanding a ransom while it burns.” Lilian heard Mr Attorcop curse under his breath. She felt the pony slow down as it reached the clump of trees.
“What should we do?” Lilian spoke quickly, formulating a hundred plans in her head. She felt Mr Attorcop breathe out a large sigh.
“Mr Attorcop. Cromwell? What do we do?”
“Nothing.” Lilian had to make sure she’d heard him correctly. The word hung in the air as solemn as a death sentence from the lips of a judge.
“Nothing!?” Lilian almost shouted, but caught herself in time so as to not alert the bandits, “But…”
“Listen to me Lilian. We cannot get mixed up in every fight we come across. If what you say is true we are outnumbered and that’s with inexperienced farmers on our side. This world is full of injustice, it’s not our job to right them all.” Lilian remembered the speed of the farmers heartbeat and the quivering fear in his voice. She felt tears well up in her eyes.
“We’re not even going to try…”
“And get ourselves killed in the process? I’m sorry Lilian. But us coming over here and assessing the situation, that IS trying. That is seeing how we can help and realising that we can’t. If we bandied over there right now we might even make things worse. I say we cut back across the field and hope we can catch the caravan before they get too close.” Lilian heard and understood the words but they sounded wrong in her ears. There was that feeling again. That cramp in the pit of her stomach she’d felt in the days after Kilde passed away. She’d come to know it as injustice. Unfairness. A sense of powerlessness and weakness and and… And she hated it. Without thinking, Lilian dropped off the pony and whistled. In seconds she had Fritha at her side and she was striding towards the tower of smoke. Rage burned in her heart as she broke into a run. She heard Mr Attorcop shouting in a loud whisper but the words passed over her head. He could stay if he wants. But Lilian understood something now. She understood why she was learning to fight, why she was practising Gloaming. It was all so that she’d never have to feel frail or helpless again. It was so that she could help people who needed help, it was so that she could change the outcome of tragedy. It was for… it was for… The word was on the tip of her tongue but something was distracting her. Over the growing roar of the fire and shouts of the farmer and his family. Lilian could have sworn she could hear… singing.
Benlunar - Episode 18
Lilian gets her first lesson in “magic”.
The Roads of Alicium run through it like veins
From small paths down mountains to city built lanes
They’ll guide you home or take you away
Or make you visit village that begs you to stay
Up through the pass, down through the grass
Stick to your map, veer not from the path
Or perhaps take an unfamiliar bend
After all, the aim of the song is the tune not the end
“I thought you hated the word magic?” Said Lilian, trying desperately to keep her excitement out of her voice. She had found that insisting on learning things or getting excited about anything around Mr Attorcop tended to make him shy away from it and go back to the basics.
“I do.” He replied, flicking a fish scale he had just picked from his teeth into the water, “And I thought you were going to come up with a better name for it?” Lilian felt herself go red.
“Well it’s hard to name something if you don’t know what it is…” She mumbled. Mr Attorcop smiled. “An excellent point. You know the travelling Laguina people say that names have power, to know something’s true name is to have control over it.” Lilian considered this, she enjoyed learning about the beliefs and cultures of the world, and the fact that names have power made a certain amount of sense.
“So by all means,” Mr Attorcop continued, “Take your time to name the art.” The three travellers were sitting by a small lake. The sun was setting behind the hills on the other side and what clouds were in the sky were turning pink in the evening light. It was warm and Lilian’s hands were dusty after maneuvering the rocks on the small beach into a circle large enough for their fire. The fire itself just like the setting sun, had burned down to an orange glow and the smell of cooking fish still clung to the smoke that came off it. Fritha the feinhound was standing ankle deep in the lake, fascinated by the fishes that moved about the shallows. Occasionally the silence of the scene was broken by her head splashing into the water, to emerge with a wriggling fish in her jaws and a smug smile on her face. Each time she would rush to Lilian to show her the fish, to which Lilian gave her much praise whilst also avoiding the inevitable shower of lake water when Fritha shook herself dry. Lilian didn’t mind this too much. She was too excited about what Mr Attorcop had just said. Time I taught you some magic, he’d said. Which meant tonight’s training would be different. Most days on the road had been completely devoid of anything that could be called magic. Each morning they awoke and practised focusing. Then they would eat something and Lilian would play with Fritha. Then they would walk. They left the forest and found the fields. Long sweeping hills made of grass and earth, marked only by the dust road on which they travelled. They talked while they walked and Lilian learned many things. She learned history and philosophy as well as how to win an argument even if you knew less than your opponent. She learned how to behave at court in Freedos and how to address different members of the nobility. She learnt about economics and maths. She learned about what plants you could eat and the names of different types of cloud. She even learned that had they taken the main road they would have reached Freedos days ago, but seeing at how few people they met on their journey Lilian understood why they hadn’t taken it. Lilian was learning many things. But magic was not one of them. Until now. As the sun set the pair prepared themselves for their evenings practise. Since her time in Hundsberg, Lilian had managed to slip into her state of hyper attention several times. At first, she could only do so at night, and it wasn’t always guaranteed. But a few times in the past week she had been able to find it in the morning as well and for the past three days she had reliably found it both at night and during the day. This seemed to satisfy Mr Attorcop enough to convince him of moving on to the next stage of training.
Lilian finished her fish as the sun finally set behind the hills and the first few stars were coming out from hiding. She found a comfortable position on a large rock and sat with her back straight and her legs crossed. Fritha seemed to recognise the routine and stepped out of the water and found a spot near the fire to lie down. Each practise began in a similar way with Mr Attorcop instructing her to close her eyes.
“And take a deep breath…
“Keep breathing in this way and pay attention to your body as it moves. If you find any part of you is tense simply acknowledge it and relax. We are in no rush. We have no agenda. Keep breathing and allow your mind to focus on the sound of it.” In the past, Mr Attorcop would have continued, encouraging Lilian to focus on the sound of his voice, and then the sound of the water or the wind in the trees. But after all this time Lilian needed little encouragement. She found her senses slipping into another place. A dark world illuminated by sound and smell. The cooked fish hit her hardest, she smelt it on her clothes as well as the coals of the fire where their dinner had dripped while cooking. She heard soft searing sounds as the last of the oil was being heated on the burned wood. She followed the feeling and allowed her attention to grow beyond their campsite. She heard Fritha’s breathing, slow and methodical. She even heard her heart beat, a pleasant counter rhythm to the slow breath. By now Lilian had taught herself to treat the sounds like lights in the darkness. She found that she could relax and see many lights all around her, or she could block out most of them and focus on only one or two. She enjoyed the sounds under the water. They were both muffled and clear at once. Sound travelled through water more quickly than through air, so when she moved her attention to the lake Lilian could see the million little lights of heartbeats and tail swishes from the minnows and bigger fishes. Her ears found frogs far away as well as mice in the rocks nearby. Sometimes she found a sound that she could not identify. These were the ones that fascinated her most. She would explore them and move around them until their mysteries were revealed. She was doing just this to a sound that turned out to be a snapping terapin, scrambling over bedrock in the middle of the lake (she could tell from the occasional bump that its shell made when it hit a stone) when Mr Attorcop spoke again. In this state, his whisper sounded like a town crier in an empty square.
“Listen very closely Lilian. You’ve become an excellent observer of the world but now you are going to shift your focus to your place within it. Bring your attention back to the beach, back to your breathing and your body but stay in this attentive state of mind.” Lilian did as she was told. She traced the rocks and rhythms in the water back to the stoney beach, she saw three bright lights there, one was Mr Attorcop, shining steadily and bright. The other was Fritha, flickering and wild. The last was herself. It felt strange to turn the focus around like this and observe her own body from a distance. It was like shouting near a large wall and waiting for the echo to come back, only the echo was clearer and sharper than the original voice that made it. She focused on the breeze moving her red hair, listening as the air whistled through its matted clumps. She found her heart beat which was slow and reliable. The light it made in this state of focus was a low golden glow. Lilian found it beautiful and wanted to stay there and watch it for hours, pulsating gilded waves through her blood and across her skin. It even shifted the fibres in her clothes before eventually disolving into the air around her. Lilian heard, smelled and felt all of this. A chorus of colours presided over by her deep breathing, a calming low sound like wind in a cave.
“Do you see yourself clearer now?” She heard Mr Attorcop say. Lilian made her head nod. It was strange giving orders to her body like this, usually she wouldn’t even think of how to do it, but from all this way away it felt like getting a puppet to nod. Both distant and familiar at once.
“Good.” He continued, “Now you might notice that your own body seems different in this state yes?” Another clunky puppet nod. “I want you to try and get some of that feeling to spread into the stones and dust around you. If you see colour then try and make the stones you’re sitting on take on that colour. Or if you feel vibration or music or you taste something strange, try and have the surrounding area become that thing too.” Lilian could hear the words but it took some time for her to work out their meaning. Was he referring to the strange golden light than was coming from her heart? That was certainly different to the grey little echo lights that the fish and rocks around her were making. But it felt so special, so uniquely hers that thinking of anything else in that way seemed uncomfortable. Like when you know someone else has slept in your bed. Besides, Lilian found herself thinking, these rocks are dull and dusty, how could they ever become so golden bright? Impossible. But still she tried. She tried seeing if she could imagine the rocks to be a similar colour, but her imagination was foggy here. Her mind was so focused on the present moment that taking it away even just to imagine something made the lights flicker or dim. Instead, Lilian tried to see if she could feel the echoes of her pulse spread out into the stones and sand around her. She focused on this for quite some time before giving up. She found a reliable wave spreading from her body, but it dimmed and faded within moments of entering the ground. Next, she tried lending the rocks her glow, and this seemed to work at first. There was one particularly smooth rock near her right knee that took on some of the golden shine but she found that she could not be apart from it for long and her body snatched it back jealously. Lilian began to feel frustrated.
“Are you having any success?” Lilian shook her head, feeling closer and closer to herself as anger crept into her efforts. Mr Attorcop asking whether or not she was succeeding did not help. Lilian did not enjoy failing and so she tried to force the glow out of her. She pushed against the walls of her skin and mind and instantly felt her head begin to ache. Some light had managed to eek out, but keeping that up for more than just a few seconds would be impossible. As if sensing her difficulty, Mr Attorcop spoke up.
“Do not worry if you are having trouble. It may take several attempts. If you wish to stop trying for tonight you may do so. If not, simply try different techniques and follow one that seems to be working. Remember, you’re trying to fill your surroundings with yourself.” Lilian almost huffed at the ridiculousness of that impossible statement. It was one of those vague and annoying phrases that Mr Attorcop came up with every now and again. She felt her focus slipping as her frustration grew and she reminded herself to breathe slowly and deeply and push any thoughts or feelings of anger out of her, as in this moment they were as useful as a hammer with a hole in it.
Breathe. Focus.
Lilian tried several other techniques, but nothing seemed to be working. She was ready to admit defeat and try another day, when the moon came out from behind a cloud. Lilian didn’t know how she knew it, but something told her that the sky was now dark and clear enough for the light of the moon to shine down on the stony beach. It was not a full moon, probably not even half a moon but still Lilian could feel it's comforting presence like a friend smiling in a crowd. It gave her confidence to continue, and strength to try at least two or three more different techniques before calling it a night. A thought suddenly occurred to her. It was one that had crossed her mind when she started the exercise but it seemed a little too foolish to even attempt. It would take far too long and she would end up being awake all night before she could make even a little stone glow. But the moon was here now, she thought, the moon was watching and Lilian could feel its curved shape in the sky, like cradling arms. She breathed in deeply and began. It didn’t take her long to find a solitary piece of sand. There was one resting on the ring finger of her left hand. Lilian had felt it move along with her pulse like a tiny drop of oil dancing on a hot pan. She chose it and focused all of her attention on this small grain, barely large enough to be called sand, dust or grit might have been a better word. But under the watchful gaze of the moon she chose it and slowly tried to fill it with the golden light in her body. It was so small, that it could easily take a share without her heart minding. It took almost a minute but Lilian finally managed to fill it with the golden glow that shone inside her. She smiled faintly, it had been so small and ugly and while it was still very small, it was definitely not ugly. It looked like a coin in deep water. Like a torch on a dark hillside. It shone brightly against the black backdrop of silence. Lilian felt her mouth curve into the slightest of smiles.
“How are you getting on?” She heard Mr Attorcop speaking clearly but from far away.
“One grain of sand.” Lilian heard herself say. It sounded ridiculous but Lilian didn’t care, luckily, Mr Attorcop didn’t seem to care either.
“Good.” He whispered. “Now try to have that grain of sand convince the others.” In any other context this would have been a strange sentence, but to Lilian, in this moment, it made sense. Why would the other grains around her not want to shine as brightly as this one? And so Lilian watched herself slowly set it down on the ground in front her. It kept its golden glow and even managed to illuminate some of the smaller stones and grains around it, but it had not suddenly flooded them with light as Lilian had hoped. As she had feared, she would have to focus intently grain by grain, stone by stone and a rock nearby the size of her fist suddenly seemed like a mountain. Tiredness began to get the better of her. The weight of the day’s travelling was catching up and combined with the late hour it made Lilian want to just give up and go to sleep. She felt herself begin to yawn but she caught it in time and strengthened her resolve. I can do more. She thought. I’m not tired yet and the moon has come to help. I won’t disappoint it.
And so, ignoring all signs of fatigue Lilian doubled her focus on the golden grain. She tried to convince herself that the light it shone on the grains beside it was actually those grains being filled with the light itself. This tactic seemed to work for a while as Lilian was able to see the light spreading to other small flecks of dust and dirt that had previously been untouched by the glow. She continued in this way for about 5 minutes. The first two or three grains had taken a minute each but after practising on them she found that the next few took only 30 or 40 seconds to fill. This gave her confidence and after what seemed like an age but was probably only a quarter of an hour, she was sitting on a patch of ground the size of a large plate that was brimming with vibrant colour. Lilian assumed that she would just spread a golden glow, like the one inside her, but the stones and sands seemed to take on a vibrancy of their own when being focused on. At first it looked like gold, but from a distance the stones were more of a silver grey and the dust a beautiful shimmering copper.
“I think that’s enough for one night Lilian.” Mr Attorcop spoke up. Lilian heard him, but she did not want to stop. She had the energy to continue and she was just getting the hang of it.
“I can keep going.” She heard herself say.
“I’m sure you can,” Mr Attorcop replied, “But you can do that tomorrow night.” Knowing that the experience had to end Lilian made one final effort. Like when a child is told to leave the park so they rush through the last game hoping to cheat the warning parent even if it means getting in trouble. The winning or losing is of no importance, the child just wants to play no matter how clumsy the game becomes. And so Lilian became clumsy. She shoved her focus around, stumbling it into a nearby rock and shoving it through a little valley of pebbles. There was no more gentle coaxing and tempting, only inarticulate persuasion. The circle of light did increase, it now encompassed the area of a small carpet, everything becoming glittering and beautiful, shining in its own unique way. But then Lilian felt the edges of her efforts. The stones did not want this intrusion, the fire fought back and the edges of the pool of brilliance flickered and grew tired. Lilian felt a bead of sweat forming on her brow.
“That’s enough Lilian.” Mr Attorcop must have noticed her straining. “Bring your focus back to your breath and open your eyes.”
“Just a little more.” Lilian knew now that she could cover the whole beach if she was just given a bit more time.
“No, Lilian, that’s fine, we can do more tomorrow.” Lilian wanted to block out Mr Attorcop’s voice. But in the back of her mind she knew he was just being sensible. With some resignation she made one final effort, one more push in the hope of filling the beach with light. But the edges of her golden circle just kept flickering. Despite her effort, Lilian could not stretch the circle out any wider.
And then the flickering stopped. The lights at the edge of the circle went still and Lilian felt her heart skip a beat. It was as though it had missed a musical cue and was now trying to catch up. Then the lights started going out. The gold and silver glow in the sand and stone was receding but not because Lilian was choosing for it to do so. It was as though the beach was rejecting her and purging itself of her presence. The circle of light was getting smaller, slowly at first but then with increasing speed. Lilian could no longer hear her breath, she felt her heart quicken in panic as the sweat on her brow became cold. She tried to breathe in but her body was filling with something different, something other than the air it so desperately needed. It was a force, an energy. Lilian could feel it vibrating her fingers. With every inch the light retreated it was filling her up. Lilian tried to exert her will and slow it down but there was no stopping it. Faster and faster the lights went out and with each grain’s glow gone her heart and head became more swollen with their energy. It was as if she had breathed in deeply but more air was still being added. Lilian felt a pain behind her eyes, a bloating in her stomach. She didn’t like it. She wanted it to stop but she couldn’t find a way. She tried to speak but her tongue was numb and she had difficulty concentrating on the words. Then nearly all the lights were out. Lilian thought she caught a final glimpse of her first grain of sand blinking into darkness before she opened her eyes. Even though it had long burned down to embers, the brightness of the fire shocked her. She tried to breathe in but couldn’t. Her eyes darted around desperately seeking out Mr Attorcop but the light of the embers and the stars and moon all seemed too much. She did not doubt that if this had been the middle of the day, the sun would have blinded her immediately. Lilian brought her hands up to her chest and throat, hitting it and scratching and trying to communicate to Mr Attorcop that she could not breathe. Suddenly, she heard his voice, calm and calculated as ever, coming from beside her.
“No need to panic Lilian. Just stand up.” His tone reassured her and Lilian scrambled to her feet listening out for further instruction.
“Now face the water.” Lilian turned and almost shaded her eyes from the moon’s reflection on the still surface of the lake. Her heart was racing now as shock began to set in.
“Now do exactly as I say.” Mr Attorcop’s voice was raised slightly and Lilian realised he was some distance behind her. Was he leaving her? Was he running away? She felt herself reaching out behind her and opening her hand in a plea for comfort and safety. But she listened when he spoke again.
“I want you to imagine that this entire time you’ve been holding in a shout. Think about how loud and big that cry would be. Focus on what your body would do to release such a shout and when you’re ready, I want you to scream at the lake. Your biggest loudest scream.” Lilian’s mind raced to understand. She quickly began thinking about her breath and how filled with air and energy she felt. She tried as calmly as possible to imagine she had just breathed in a great volume of air and was now holding it in preparation to shout out. She tensed her stomach muscles, brought her hands up in front of her and gripped them into tight fists while leaning her head back. She was ready. In one sharp motion she brought her fists down and used the momentum to thrust her head forward. At the same time she let out a cry, a bellowing shout that after leaving her throat sounded nothing like she’d ever spoken before. It was her voice but it was deeper and stronger and filled with power. It sounded like the first part of a laugh, a ‘HA’ but not breathy or cheerful. After it left her mouth she felt better but still confused. She could have sworn she watched the water move. As if an invisible boulder rolled quickly across its surface, parting the water and making a shallow valley in the lake for just an instant before the water reformed and became choppy with the disturbance. After another second the surface of the lake became agitated. The small waves gave way to a vibration on the surface as if it was boiling. Lilian thought of a metal bowl filled with water being struck and the water dancing with the sound it made. She even thought she could hear a low tone. But by this point her vision was growing dark and she didn’t quite believe what she saw. She was surely part way into a dream as her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. The surface of the lake couldn’t vibrate, she thought as she closed her eyes, not across the entire body of water.
Lilian awoke the next day to the sound of bird song coming from the low brush beyond the shore. She opened her eyes slowly squinting in the bright sunlight. The first things she saw were the large cat-like eyes of her familiar furry friend Fritha. Lilian felt her hot breath moving her hair as she sniffed her face. Lilian tried to smile but as soon as she moved her head searing pain shot through her. Her mouth was dry and opening her eyes to any more than a squint caused her head to hurt even more. Lilian wanted nothing more than to pull her blanket closer, roll over and go back to sleep, but Fritha’s tongue simultaneously course and wet licked her cheek. Lilian groaned and took the hint. She gently pushed Fritha’s big head to one side and hefted herself up to a seated position. Her head pounded and she quickly brought her hand up to block out the dancing lights of the sun’s reflection on the water.
“Good morning.” Mr Attorcop was bending over a small pot suspended over the re-lit fire. A bitter smelling substance bubbled away inside it. Lilian mumbled a greeting and absent mindedly stroked Fritha’s purple fur.
“Let me guess. A heavy head, dry mouth and soreness behind the eyes.” Lilian nodded, not bothering to ask how he knew. Mr Attorcop’s face was stern as he decanted the liquid into a mug and handed it to Lilian. She took it and pushed Fritha’s curious head out of the way as she brought it up to her nose to smell it. Lilian almost wretched. The liquid was thick and smelled of eggs.
“Drink it.” Said Mr Attorcop, returning to the log he had been sitting on, “It will make you feel better.” Lilian couldn’t even muster the strength to protest. Months of knowing Mr Attorcop meant that Lilian knew that it wouldn’t have helped much anyway. She brought the cup slowly up to her lips, held her breath and drank. Thankfully, it tasted better than it smelt and Lilian was able to finish the mug in just a few large gulps. After sitting still and focusing on keeping the drink in her stomach for a few minutes, Lilian finally managed to speak.
“What’s wrong with me.” Mr Attorcop laughed.
“Ha, where do I start. You’re stubborn, overly ambitious and you’re terrible at obeying instructions from those who know better.”
“No.” Grimaced Lilian, “I mean… now.”
“You over exerted yourself. I told you to reign it in slowly but you of course tested my instructions and went beyond your capability. Remember what I said that first day I showed you the lunar essence? All power comes at a price. Last night I wanted you to go for a short walk, but instead you ran up a mountain. Now instead of practising again today you’re going to have to spend time recovering.” Mr Attorcop let out a deep sigh. “I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later. Best you find out in the early days. Pushing yourself like that takes its toll.” Lilian’s head was still pounding but she could now open her eyes fully, whatever Mr Attorcop had given her seemed to be working.
“How do I stop this from happening again.” Mr Attorcop stoked the fire and Fritha wandered over to the water to see if she could catch any fish.
“Last night, when you turned your focus to your own heart and body, what did it look like?” Lilian groggily explained the golden glow she saw and how she managed to put some into the grain of sand on her finger. Mr Attorcop nodded in understanding.
“So when the grain took on the quality of your golden light, did it do that because you forced it?” Lilian thought for a second,
“No.” She replied. “It was more like I convinced it, or I dunno, persuaded it.”
“And after it was persuaded it took on the light easily?” Lilian nodded. “And after I told you to stop, did you then persuade more rocks or did you force them to take on the light?” Lilian didn’t answer. She felt ashamed and knew that Mr Attorcop already knew the answer. The silence hung in the air a while, occasionally interrupted by Fritha splashing about in the lake.
“I don’t understand.” Said Lilian after some time, “If I wanted to fill every rock on this beach, that would take days.” Mr Attorcop furrowed his brow.
“Who said you had to fill every rock on this beach?” Lilian shrugged.
“No one. It’s just an example.”
“It’s all just practise Lilian.” Mr Attorcop stood up as he spoke, moving to get some food from his pack. “In a few years you might be able to fill the beach, but for now you should be content with a few grains of sand.” Suddenly, a thought struck Lilian.
“Once I know how to fill a few rocks with the light, what do I do then? How does that become useful?” Mr Attorcop smiled and bent down by the lake to fill his water skin.
“Where does this intelligence go when practising? Well, when filling things with our own essence they become aware of us and our own life force mixes with theirs. We give a bit of ourselves and when we’re ready we take back our essence, only now it’s mixed with a bit of what it had just filled.” Lilian thought about this.
“So when I took the light back, I got some rock and sand essence back with it?”
“Sort of. At least, that’s how it was described to me and it seems to make the most sense. We certainly feel more powerful when we bring our essence back into us. Last night you over exerted yourself and you took back more than you could handle. Like filling a water skin to the brim and then filling it some more. You’re paying for that this morning.” He made a show of lightly squeezing the water skin until some water bubbled out of the top. Lilian looked down at the rocks and dust around her. So much power from such still and dull things.
“Yes Lilian,” Said Mr Attorcop, following her gaze. “All of that from just a few rocks. Now you understand why we started here. Imagine doing that for the first time in a field of flowers or a town full of people?” He squeezed his water skin quickly and tightly and Lilian watched a jet of white water explode from the top. She shuddered. Mr Attorcop nodded gravely.
“Once we know how to give and take back safely we can convert the power from the natural world in to… well, that’s another lesson. I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself.”
For the next few hours the trio did very little. Mr Attorcop caught some fish and seasoned them with some herbs he picked from the shallow waters before cooking them over the fire. Fritha looked on expectantly, licking her lips every so often in anticipation. Lilian’s appetite slowly returned and although her head still ached, she enjoyed the fresh fish and bread. No one had said anything for quite some time. The water lapped at the stones, small birds flitted around the reeds and Lilian was thankful for the peace and quiet. She knew they would have to continue their journey this afternoon, but for now she closed her eyes and enjoyed the heat of the sun on her face. Fritha, her coat mirroring the dappled blue and white of the water, came to join Lilian and sat down beside her, leaning her heavy weight against Lilian’s left arm. Lilian breathed in a deep and pleasant breath. Then it came to her, the name she had been searching for in the back of her head all this time. They would no longer be referring to this process as ‘magic’, for just then the perfect term popped into her mind as if it had always been there but had been slightly obscured by the worries and cares of everyday life. With calm confidence, she spoke the name and for a second the world was still.
“Gloaming.”