The room beyond the curtain sounded full and, over the hubbub, she heard the obese man’s voice. “Hello!” he called. “Hello! Tonight you see normal! Chalk-white face! Clear eyes! Normal teeth! Normal hands and toes! And,” he paused, “normal tongue!”
A gasp rose from the crowd, followed by cries of delight.
“I can’t…” Katherine’s terror grew as the din of the audience increased.
“You will,” the elderly man said, pinching her leg. “Keepsy will do as told.”
“Tonight!” the obese man announced. “We present horror. And fun. Tonight I give you…the normal girl!”
Katherine peeked through a gap to the long line of figures, their misshapen faces even more monstrous by candlelight.
And then the first stepped behind the curtain, a pallid-faced lady with three eyes on her forehead and a slit for a mouth. She hissed at Katherine as the elderly man pinched her once more until she turned and twirled, presenting her hands and fingers and then her tongue. The ashen-faced lady gasped and began to applaud.
“Next!” the elderly man rasped, shoving the woman back through the curtain.
One by one, the city’s monsters appeared, and as each stepped through the curtain, Katherine had to contain her horror at their nightmarish mutations. Soon she learned that the best thing was to look at her feet and, after twirling, stare directly ahead as she showed her tongue.
That way she could avoid their leering, inhuman eyes.
Some of the creatures were not content just to look at her. A few prodded her arms and grasped her hair as they sought a lock or two for a keepsake. The elderly man slapped their hands, cursing them before calling for the next spectator.
After what seemed like hours, the din of voices beyond the curtain began to quell and Katherine glanced through the gap.
There was only one spectator left, a tall lady dressed in black with a mane of long, dark hair and a huge crow balanced on her shoulder. Katherine gaped at the bird, wondering if it was the same one that had watched her from the garden wall. As the lady stepped behind the curtain, the elderly man gasped, looking at his feet.
“Away, Eiderstaark,” the lady said. “Give me a moment with the normal.” She had a low, measured voice, one that was clearly used to being obeyed. The lady handed the elderly man a black velvet bag, causing him to exclaim with pleasure as he tugged his forelock and skittered away.
“Look at me,” the lady said.
Katherine did as she was told, swallowing as she gazed down. Something about the lady commanded instant authority. It was there in her straight posture and her intensely grey eyes. She held a black lacquered fan over the lower half of her face, swiping it gently and causing the crow to squawk. “Hush,” she whispered. “I know, the stench is appalling, but we should expect no less of the Eiderstaark. I’m sorry they caught you, girl.”
“I hate it here,” Katherine said. “I just want to go home.”
“And you will,” the lady replied. “And I shall help you. My name is Yarrowiska. The Eiderstaark call me a queen.”
“Are you a real queen?” Katherine asked.
“Of sorts. But that’s quite unimportant. All that matters is that we get you away from this terrible place, back to where you belong. I’ll meet you by the grate in the cellar tonight.”
“Were you out there last night?” Katherine asked, glancing at the lady’s boots.
“I was. An associate told me a human girl had been caught by the Eiderstaark. I waited until tonight to be sure.”
A loud, exaggerated cough came from beyond the curtain. Yarrowiska leaned closer to Katherine, whispering, “I need to get out before they become suspicious. Look for me later.” She stepped around the curtain, taking great care not to touch it. Katherine listened to the clack of her boots on the floorboards until they faded away.
She allowed herself a smile. Now she had a guide across the city.
Then the curtain was suddenly whipped open, and the Eiderstaark watched her from the middle of the room.
The elderly man prodded her in the side. “Good Keepsy. Good show. Much dust.” He pointed to a rickety table with a collection of pouches.
“They paid you with dust to gawp at me?” Katherine asked.
“Yes. Good normal. Good dust!” the elderly man said. “More shows. More dust. Before Keepsy turns.”
“Turns into one of you?” Katherine scowled, jumping from the crate.
She was relieved as the tall man opened the cellar door, ushering her inside. This time Oldsy stayed below, whimpering in the shadows.
“Sleep now, Keepsy,” the tall man said.
“I will. Goodnight.” Katherine stopped herself from adding, “And goodbye.”
She descended into the gloom. The boy sat in the corner, his eyes wide as he glanced past her. “Don’t worry,” Katherine said. “He’s not coming down. And he’s never going to hurt you again. At least, he won’t if you come with me.”
The boy stared blankly.
He’s simple, Katherine thought, probably from being beaten around the head so many times. “Do you want to leave this house for good?”
The boy nodded.
“Then come with me tonight.”
“Where Keepsy going?”
“Back to my village. You can come, as well. Or go back to wherever you’re from. Do you want that?” Katherine gave his hand a consoling squeeze.
The boy nodded and was about to say something when a voice hissed through the grate. “Girl!”
Katherine flinched as the boy’s nails dug into the palm of her hand. He skittered away with a yelp, hiding in the shadows. “It’s alright, Oldsy,” Katherine said. “Yarrowiska’s a friend. She’s going to help us escape.”
Yarrowiska peered down. “I’m going to help you escape. Leave him here.”
“No!” Katherine said, a little louder than she intended. “I can’t leave him behind. I won’t.”
Yarrowiska glared at Katherine, before giving a sharp nod. “Very well.” She held up a long, black key. “I haven’t found a lock that this key cannot open. Well, aside from one, but we don’t need to open that door just yet. I heard the Eiderstaark’s banal conversation as they went up to their rooms. They should be asleep by now. Use this key to get out of the cellar and leave by the first hole you find.”
Katherine caught the key as Yarrowiska dropped it through the grate. “Thank you. Will it open the door which leads…?”
“No. Believe me, I’ve tried. Don’t worry, we will find a way to get you home. However, we must go to my house first, so I can treat your condition. Your flesh is turning from the moonlight. Tell me, was your hair always so black?”
“No.” Katherine ran her fingers through her hair. “It was…is chestnut brown.”
“No matter,” Yarrowiska said. “I shall help you.”
“Thank you, Yarrowiska. You’re so kind,” Katherine said. “Where shall I meet you?”
“Meet me in the street. I have a carriage waiting. We will be long gone before the Eiderstaark awaken. Be quick.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can. But first, I need to find the key to the door under the bridge. So I can get home.”
“No,” Yarrowiska protested. “There isn’t time.”
“But how else am I going to get back to my world?”
Yarrowiska looked as if she were about to say something but thought better of it. She muttered and shook her head. “Very well. Go now, be quick,” she said, before melting into the gloom.
Katherine ran to Oldsy and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
“No,” he said, his eyes filled with fear. “Not with her.”
“I told you, she’s a friend. She’s going to help us get away.”
“Not with her,” Oldsy repeated, shrinking further against the wall.
“Very well,” Katherine told him. “If you want to stay here, then that’s your business. But I’ll leave the door open in case you change your mind and decide you don
’t want to spend the rest of your days being beaten in this rancid cellar.
It’s up to you.” As Katherine slipped the key into the cellar door lock, she heard a soft click. She opened the door and stole into the house, leaving the door ajar for Oldsy.
As she spotted a patch of moonlight issuing from a hole in the wall, Katherine was tempted to climb through and join Yarrowiska. But the key to getting back to Tattleton lay in the pockets of the tall man somewhere above.
Katherine climbed the stairs, gingerly testing each step for creaks. The upstairs was a mirror of the house below—bare floorboards, walls full of holes, and a set of doorways.
Muffled snores came from behind the first door. As Katherine pushed it open, she shivered. The elderly man lay in a bed in the corner of a room and before him, a row of buckets. As the stench of the room washed over Katherine, she retched, stepping into the hall, trying her best to put the vile contents of those buckets from her mind.
Katherine tiptoed to the next door. She turned its handle, but froze as a voice murmured within. She ducked down, gazing through a hole in the door.
A large bed filled the room, and lying in its center, in a filthy pair of long johns and matching nightcap, was the obese man, his nightclothes fluttering in a breeze. On the wall opposite him was a huge hole and beyond it, the city. A plate with a slice of pie rested on his rising and falling stomach as he mumbled, “Big cheese, little cheese, round cheese, smelly cheese.” Katherine left him to his strange list and listened at the next door.
Silence.
Katherine searched for a hole or crack to peek through, but there was nothing, so she placed her hand on the doorknob, ignored her fluttering heart, and turned it.
She eased the door open to find a small desk with a hat placed upon it, a wilting flower in its band. Next to it, the lady slept on a jumble of blankets and clothes, her brow furrowed, her black teeth bared. She hissed and turned, letting out a low, feral growl. Katherine closed the door and stepped towards the final room.
This one had to belong to the tall man. The door was ajar, and beyond, a great pair of yellow feet showed through socks that were more hole than cloth. Beyond the feet, a pair of legs stretched, and far behind them, the tall man’s face, his hands resting on his chest as he stared at the ceiling.
He was awake!
Katherine’s heart thumped. Had he seen her?
But he remained perfectly still, and as she heard his soft snore, she realized he was sleeping with his eyes open.
No stranger, perhaps, than she should have expected from an Eiderstaark.
The tall man lay upon the floor on an old sheet. Every now and then, something dark and shiny scuttled from beneath it, vanishing between the cracks in the floorboards. She inched into the room. In the corner was a rickety chair with clothes heaped upon it and, resting right on top, the tall man’s coat.
Katherine crept slowly forward, taking great care to step as far away from the tall man as possible. She was halfway to the chair when he lifted his hand and pointed at her. She clamped a hand over her mouth, swallowing her scream as his eyes continued to stare at the ceiling.
“Tell him,” he whispered.
Katherine shook her head. Was he talking to her? Was he awake?
And then he continued. “Tell him to flog his weary soul in old market. Eiderstaark not want it here. Hoardspike pay.”
What’s a hoardspike? Katherine wondered.
Whatever it was, it sounded unpleasant.
She waited until his hand fell back to the sheet before she continued to the chair, slipping her hand into his coat pocket, the scent of stale sweat filling her nose.
The first thing she found was a crust and grains of what felt like hardened mud. And then something slithered against her fingers. Katherine stifled her shriek, fighting to rid herself of the image of squirming maggots.
She glanced towards the other pocket and thrust her hand inside. Something cold and soft obstructed her hand and below it, something metallic.
The key?
But as she removed the object, she yelped. It was a dead mouse, one of its eyes missing, its mouth contorted in a grimace.
Katherine watched in horror as the tall man’s eyes moved from the ceiling and focused on her, confusion on his sleepy face. She thrust her hand back into the pocket, grabbed the key, and was halfway across the room when one of his hands grabbed her leg. “Keepsy? How…”
“Get off!” Katherine yelled, bringing her other foot down on his hand.
He let go with a howl.
“Bad Keepsy!” he yelled, struggling to his feet.
Katherine ran out the door, freezing at the sight of the elderly man rushing from his room, a candle in one hand, a knife in the other. “Keepsy!” he yelled. “Come here!”
Katherine ducked towards the stairs but he barred her, his blade slicing through the air. She turned, pushing through another door, and found herself in the obese man’s room.
He was awake now, and as she flew into his room, he covered the plate of pie, yelling, “Secret pie! Not for Keepsy!”
She ignored him as she made for the huge hole in the side of his bedroom wall and climbed through, as the tall man cried, “Stop, Keepsy! Stop!” She turned back to look out across a panorama of thousands of grimy rooftops and above them, the great black tower. Below the hole in the wall, the cobbled street looked hard and cold as it glistened in the moonlight.
Katherine lowered herself, clinging to the edge of the wall. The tall man grabbed her wrist, causing her to scream. With a clatter of hooves, a horse and carriage swept from an alley, its driver wrapped in darkness. It stopped below Katherine as she clung to the ledge, and Yarrowiska emerged from within. “Jump to the carriage roof. It will hold you.”
“Inside, Keepsy!” the tall man demanded as behind, the rest of the Wrong People stared at Katherine with sleepy-eyed disdain.
“Pie thief!” the obese man growled as he, too, seized Katherine’s wrist, his sausage-like fingers clammy against her skin.
“Get off!” Katherine cried. She let go of the wall with her other hand, hanging and praying her weight would overwhelm them.
It didn’t.
Something black and feathered swept past her. It took a moment for Katherine to realize it was the great crow. It cawed, pecking the obese man’s fingers and causing him to wince. He let go of Katherine with a high-pitched squeal.
The tall man batted his free hand at the crow as it raked the back of his other hand with its claws. “No!” he cried as it slashed at him and finally, with a howl of rage, he let go of Katherine.
She fell and struck the carriage’s thick canopy, bouncing and falling before Yarrowiska seized her, guiding her to the ground. “Get in, girl. Quickly!”
Katherine opened the carriage door, climbing into its plush interior. Yarrowiska joined her, petting the crow that had just returned to her shoulder. Above, the driver cracked his whip, and as the horses began to canter, something else struck the carriage roof.
Yarrowiska opened the door, half climbing out and arching her neck to look up before clambering back in. “They must have thrown something.”
In the distance came the sound of the Eiderstaarks’ screams and above them, a tinny, musical sound.
It was the obese man’s trumpet, and as Katherine heard it, she had an overwhelming urge to leap from the carriage until Yarrowiska clamped her hands over her ears.
Katherine glanced from the window as the carriage rattled through the foggy streets, and here and there, she glimpsed the city’s denizens. Not one approached the carriage, as if they were keeping a respectable distance.
Katherine shrank from the carriage window as cold moonlight beamed down upon her with the same intensity as a summer sun. She looked at the skin on her hands and noted with horror that it was becoming as dry and brittle as old paper, its color lit with a slight yellow hue.
“Don’t worry,” Yarrowiska told her. “I will cure you just as soon as we reach my house.”<
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The coach sped on, and as it climbed a hill, Katherine recognized some of the buildings. “Are we near the passageway that leads to Tattleton?”
“It’s not far. I shall take you there soon.” Yarrowiska placed a cold hand upon Katherine’s wrist. If the gesture was designed to bring comfort, it failed.
“Why are you helping me?” Katherine asked. “Not that I’m ungrateful.”
“I despise the Eiderstaark and their petty-minded ways. They should never have been selected to liaise with your kind. It was our old king’s decision. Little wonder for the gossip saying he was part Eiderstaark himself.”
“Is that why the Eiderstaark have the key to the door?”
“Many, many years ago, the people of Tattleton traded with the Grimwytch, until a flame of righteousness swept across your realm and such dealings were outlawed. But the door between our world and yours remained in secret. And ever since, the Eiderstaark have lurked in the passage each day, waiting for someone to knock and invite them to open it.”
The carriage began to rumble as it left the street and rolled through a pair of iron gates and across a graveled path.
“We’re here,” Yarrowiska said. “Now, let’s make you well.”
The driver opened the door, holding out a gloved hand for Katherine. She took it, doing her best to avoid the blazing red eyes shining from the swaddles of the man’s hooded coat.
The house before Katherine was immense. She recalled how the Eiderstaark elder had acted towards Yarrowiska, how he’d called her a queen. Looking at the building, it was no wonder.
The facade was hewn from black marble, with four great pillars supporting a portico that stretched above a set of red lacquered doors. The turreted roof was decorated with gargoyles, each leering down at Katherine. Were they ornaments, she wondered as one seemed to turn its head to regard her. She looked away. As Yarrowiska led her up the steps towards the door, something struck Katherine in the back.
She turned to see a figure splayed out beneath the carriage.
Oldsy.
What was he doing? She was about to call to him, but he shook his head, pointing to Katherine and away from the house.
“Is something wrong?” Yarrowiska asked.
The Book of Kindly Deaths Page 12