‘Maybe Bertha won’t come near the gate?’ he suggested. ‘Viper tried to snatch her before and the guillotine chopped off her finger. She’s probably wary.’
‘You could be right, Crafty,’ agreed Lick. ‘Give me back her finger, then go through the gate – but stay in sight. And head straight back at the very first hint of danger.’
While Crafty pulled on his greatcoat, Lick replaced the finger in the box. Then he clambered through the gate into the Shole.
The air was chilly and damp. He walked slowly along the sloping edge of the bog, moving in a clockwise direction towards the house where he’d once lived. He glanced back at the shimmering blue circle. It was a lot better working with Lick, he thought. She wouldn’t play stupid tricks or abandon him. And later he’d get to search for his father. How his prospects had changed in the space of only a few hours!
Crafty had taken only twenty steps when there was a disturbance on the surface of the mud to his right. Seconds later the crowned top of Bertha’s head broke through, as far as her nose. Her green eyes stared up at him without blinking.
Crafty smiled at her, and held up his hands to show her that she could trust him.
Her head rose up further until her mouth was clear of the mud. ‘Why have you come here again?’ she asked, her voice low and soft.
‘I’ve come to thank you for giving me the knife, Bertha. Without that I would never have escaped. I’d be dead.’
She didn’t seem to hear him. ‘It’s dangerous here,’ she warned. ‘You must stay away.’
‘But I can’t stay away, Bertha. It’s my job to come through the gate and find out as much as I can about the Shole. My people are suffering, and we have to find a way to defeat it. I’m with a friend, a girl called Lick. She’s a gate mancer,’ Crafty said, pointing back towards the blue circle. ‘You saved her life too. She’d just like to ask you some questions. Will you help us?’
Bertha’s face remained as impassive as ever, but her tone took on a harder edge as she spoke. ‘I trust you, Crafty. I know you. But how can I trust a gate mancer? Those people are cruel. They tried to drag me away. They cut off my finger too.’
‘Some mancers are cruel – that’s true. Some have been very cruel to me. But this one is different.’
‘Different how? Will she give me back my finger?’
Crafty hesitated. Lick was pretty reasonable, but he suspected that she’d be reluctant to simply hand the finger back.
‘I’ll ask her.’
Bertha gave the slightest nod of her head. ‘If she returns it, I will talk to her – but I won’t approach that gate. She must come to me. I know she’s Fey, like you and your father, and the Shole itself won’t harm her. I’ll warn you both if danger approaches.’
With that, Bertha sank back down a few inches into the bog, and Crafty returned to the gate, where Lick was staring out at him. He told her what Bertha had said.
Lick frowned. ‘That presents me with two serious problems. The finger is the property of the Relic Room, and the curators won’t like me going back without it.’
‘No,’ Crafty said, frowning back at her, ‘it’s the property of Bertha. It’s her finger! And it’s of no use to us. We don’t need it to find her – she finds us – and we know she only shows herself if she wants to. And surely the Relic people must have finished studying it by now?’
‘You’re right, Crafty, but the curators might not see it that way. They don’t only store and conserve artefacts. As new knowledge comes to light, their specialists re-examine the specimens. Research is continuing all the time.’
Lick paused and sighed, then went on. ‘And there’s something else for us to worry about. A mancer isn’t supposed to leave the gate unattended. Most can’t anyway – they cannot risk going into the Shole. Of course, I can, but I’d be leaving the gate in a very vulnerable position. What if something got through into the castle – some dangerous aberration that might kill people? I’d be responsible.’
‘I agree that it’s a risk, but I could stand behind you, near the gate, in case there’s any threat,’ Crafty said, pointing to the hilt of the dagger protruding from his greatcoat pocket.
For a moment Lick covered her face with her hands, clearly wrestling with her conscience. Then she dropped them and, with a look of determination, silently picked up the box containing Bertha’s finger and climbed through the gate to join Crafty.
He gave her a pat on the back, glad that she’d seen sense.
‘Don’t you get too familiar!’ she warned, but then she smiled and winked at him, and marched off towards Bertha.
Keeping his distance, Crafty followed her. He saw that Bertha was now standing up in the bog. He halted, carefully positioning himself so that he could just hear what was being said, but could also run back to defend the gate if anything happened.
The gloom of the Shole seemed thicker today. The blue of the gate was dim, and the outlines of Bertha and Lick indistinct.
First Lick held out the box and Bertha accepted it. Then, wasting no time, Lick asked her first question:
‘Where do you live? Have you a shelter, a place of refuge?’
Bertha pointed to the bog. ‘I live in the bog. Deep within it there is a chamber where I spend time. My things are there.’
‘What things?’
‘Some are things that belong to my own time; things that were buried with me. Others are objects I have found – in the bog and elsewhere: weapons, brooches and amulets that contain magic.’
Lick was busily scribbling all this down. ‘And what do you eat, Bertha?’ she asked.
‘Anything that bleeds. Mostly small creatures that swim through the bog. I might eat you, if you were not a friend of Crafty,’ she said calmly.
Crafty was shocked by that. Bertha had always seemed so gentle, kind and friendly. He’d never thought about what she ate. But he supposed that violence and blood-lust were part of the reality of being a creature of the Shole. She was simply telling them the truth.
Lick glanced warily back at Crafty before continuing with her questions. She looked just a shade nervous. ‘Do things hunt you, Bertha?’
‘Yes – many things, big and small. It is kill or be killed here. Always keep moving. Be alert or die.’
‘Crafty’s father and two other couriers have disappeared as well. Do you know what’s happened to them?’
‘I have already searched for Brian Benson because Crafty is my friend. I cannot find him and do not know where he is. Something as yet unknown has taken the couriers.’
Crafty felt his heart contract with fear and pain. What did she mean ‘something as yet unknown’ had taken them? What had happened to his father? They had to try and rescue him as soon as possible.
Perhaps knowing that he’d be upset by this news, Lick decided that it was time to go.
‘Could I return later to ask you more questions?’ she asked Bertha.
‘Yes. Come back to this same place, close to the bog. I will know when you are here. We will talk again.’
With that, Bertha sank down again, and Lick jogged back over to Crafty. They returned to the gate, and made it safely through, grateful that they’d not encountered any danger.
Sitting at her desk, Lick spent ten minutes making more notes, carefully recording what Bertha had said.
‘We’ll go back tomorrow and talk to her again,’ she told Crafty, placing her notebook in her desk drawer and taking out a pair of scissors. He wondered what they were for.
‘Did you learn anything useful?’ he asked.
‘A little, though the most important thing was to get her to trust me. But you heard what she said. Did you already know that she killed and ate other creatures? And that, if I hadn’t been with you, I could have been on the menu?’
This was part of life in the Shole that Crafty had pushed to the back of his mind. Mulling it over, he worried about his brothers. If they returned to life, would they be the same – could they be a threat even to him?
??
?She’s my friend, so perhaps I didn’t dwell too closely on how she lived in the Shole. But I suppose you have to survive in any way you can.’
Lick nodded, and then finally shut her notebook.
‘Right, Crafty. Let’s go and see if we can find your father.’
‘We don’t know where he is,’ Lick began, ‘but you love him, don’t you?’
Crafty scowled at her in disbelief. What a question to ask! ‘Yes, of course I do!’
She ignored his anger. ‘So you must be emotionally close to him. That can often be enough to establish a connection. Now, concentrate! See if you can find him using your mind.’
Crafty eagerly took his seat in front of the gate and concentrated hard. He thought of the last time he’d seen his father – the moment when he’d left Crafty at the castle. He remembered his final words: I’ll be back soon to see how you’re getting on …
Nothing happened. The dark clouds still swirled within the gate’s frame.
Then he allowed his mind to go further back, and found happy memories from when he was younger. Crafty remembered standing at the garden gate with his mother and two brothers, watching his father set off for work. He was wearing his courier uniform and his big coat. He’d turned and waved. As Crafty remembered that, a lump came into his throat. He’d been so proud, but also afraid for his father, knowing that he was going into danger. Crafty wondered what kind of danger he was in now.
Still nothing happened.
‘I can’t do it,’ he said sadly, staring at the opaque cloud.
‘Not to worry, Crafty,’ said Lick kindly. ‘People with a lot of skill and long experience have tried and failed to find him using many different means. The main problem we face is that because couriers don’t live in the castle, or leave any of their possessions there, there is nothing to hand that we Fey could use to locate him. We’ll just have to get our thinking caps on and work out another way.’
‘Why don’t we just go back to the garden where they left the sedan chair? There were footprints: I could follow them.’
‘That’s already been done, Crafty. Beyond the garden those footprints hit a cobbled road – they can’t be followed any further.’
‘I’d like to take a look anyway,’ he insisted stubbornly.
Lick shrugged. ‘It won’t help, but if it’ll make you feel better … fine. I’ll take us to the fixed location in Winckley Square, where you found the sedan chair. According to the Duke, the couriers dropped his chair very suddenly and it fell on its side. Then they went off, abandoning him. He shouted out, asking why they were leaving him there, but there was no reply. They just went off without a word of explanation. This suggests to me that they were compelled in some way. Maybe it was some form of malevolent magic?’
Before Crafty could comment, Lick adjusted the ratchet-dial and, seconds later, the clouds in the gate cleared. Through the gloom he could see trees and the wall that enclosed the large central garden. In the foreground was the sedan chair, still lying on its side.
‘We’re going to try something new,’ Lick said, approaching him with the scissors. ‘We’re in a unique position to experiment – we’re both Fey and have gate-grub ability. You go through the gate and follow the couriers’ footprints. I’ll sit in the chair and follow you with the gate – jumping forwards to keep up with you. That way we can stay in contact – and keep you safer – without having to leave the gate unattended. But first I need something to track you with. A bit of hair will do. Keep still. I don’t want to nick you.’
She reached out and cut a short length of hair from just above his ear. She clutched it in her left hand, then said, ‘Right, off you go, Crafty …’
As he stood up and clambered through the gate, Lick sat down in his place.
He approached the sedan chair and looked down at the footprints. He recognized the set that belonged to the youth who was now the Duke. They led off along the path towards the place where he’d been changed by the Shole. There were three other, broader sets of prints, clearly made by the big boots of the couriers, one of them his father. They headed in the opposite direction to the Duke, and Crafty followed their trail up through the trees. At first the prints were clear because of the muddy ground, but as he climbed up the slope approaching the wall, they became less deep, less clearly delineated.
He glanced back. He could still just make out the blue circle of the gate in the distance. Suddenly it winked out.
His heart thudded with fear. Had something gone wrong? Had Lick abandoned him? Crafty suddenly became all too aware of the cat-like beasts sleeping in the houses around the square.
The next second the gate reappeared much closer. Lick calmly waved at him through the circle.
Relief flooded through him. Of course, it would keep disappearing. Lick would have to jump forward to follow him each time; it wasn’t possible to follow him smoothly.
He reached the wall. It wasn’t very high, but it was topped by an iron railing with sharp pointy spikes. High up Crafty saw a sign that said:
WINCKLEY STREET
But then he saw that there was a gap in the wall, and the footprints led right to it.
On the other side there were no more prints to follow. The road was cobbled, and directly ahead a narrow lane called Winckley Street led out of the square. It was what Crafty had been told to expect, but still his heart plummeted in disappointment. The silver gate wasn’t far behind him, so he went back and clambered through to talk to Lick.
‘The people who carried out the investigation were right,’ he admitted. ‘There’s no way to follow those tracks across the cobbles.’
‘No. But the direction in which they were clearly heading is interesting,’ said Lick. ‘It’s the least likely route any courier would take from here.’
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because if you head that way, you’re approaching the place where the Shole first began. All our experience and research indicates that this is the most dangerous place of all. Why would three experienced couriers, who know that only too well, head there?’
‘And why would those couriers abandon the sedan chair in the first place?’ Crafty asked.
‘Probably because they were drawn towards that heart of darkness that lies at the centre of the Shole. This is all suggesting that some form of magic was used against them. As I said, it looks like they were compelled by an irresistible summons.’
‘Are we going there?’ Crafty asked, unable to hide the fear in his voice. ‘You could follow me using the gate.’
Lick shook her head. ‘I hope that we might soon develop shields and devices that allow us to do so – we’re working on them now – but at the moment it’s far too dangerous. Unknown things could come through the gate into the Daylight World. The guillotine might not be enough to stop them. It’s a risk we are not prepared to take.’
‘But if that’s where my father is …’ Crafty protested. ‘Am I just supposed to forget about him? He might still be alive!’
‘I understand how you feel, Crafty, but you need to obey me. Now is not the time.’
Crafty scowled. He didn’t like the way Lick had used the word obey. It reminded him that they were by no means equals. She might have allowed him to call her Lick, but nothing had really changed. He was still just a commoner, a lowly gate grub. Suddenly he felt very angry.
‘I thought you said that things would be different now that we’re working for the new Duke? I thought we were going to carry the fight to the Shole, to take risks? Think of all those people trapped in the Daylight Islands. We could be using sedan chairs to get them out. Why aren’t we doing that? Why aren’t we doing something?’
‘Don’t be silly, Crafty. Think how long it would take to carry them all to safety! Think of the danger to the couriers – remember what happened to your father. We are doing something, but we have to be ready, and that will take time!’
Now Lick was getting cross. Crafty could see the anger in her eyes as she struggled to remain calm and rea
sonable. But he felt so powerless.
‘If he’s still alive, my father may not have much time left!’ he exclaimed in frustration. ‘We should go and try to find him now.’
‘We can’t, Crafty! Be sensible, and –’
‘Sensible?!’ he shouted, interrupting her. ‘Use a bit of empathy, if you have any. Think how I feel. If it was your father, you’d be off trying to save him right now!’
This was clearly too much.
‘You know nothing about my father!’ Lick snapped, her voice cold and hard. ‘That’s enough for today. Return to the Waiting Room immediately.’
‘Yes, Miss Crompton-Smythe,’ Crafty replied, equally coldly, and then turned and left the room.
The following day was a Sunday, so Crafty headed out into the city with Lucky.
They sat at the edge of the market place listening to the shouting of the vendors, who were desperately trying to attract the few potential customers. Lancaster was getting quieter by the day. More and more people were leaving. And who could blame them? The Shole could surge at any moment. Soon there’d be nobody left but the workers from the castle.
Still, the sun was shining and it was a glorious day – probably one of the last they’d have before autumn came, bringing with it cooler weather and earlier nights.
The conditions in the Shole would be much more dangerous then.
They’d bought bread rolls wrapped around fat beef sausages. Crafty realized that gate grubs didn’t get paid much, and a big part of what they earned was deducted to cover the cost of their uniforms and their board at the castle. Those sausage rolls had taken a big chunk of the little money they had left, but they were worth every penny – piping hot and dripping with butter!
For a while they didn’t speak, happy to be well-fed and out in the sunshine.
When they’d finished, Crafty brought Lucky up to date, telling him everything that had happened – from Bertha giving him the dagger to Lick’s refusal to accompany him along the road to the place where he thought his father might be held prisoner. But, of course, remembering his promise to the Duke, Crafty didn’t tell him that Viper had been a member of the Grey Hoods.