In which case, Craith thought, Janeen must be a really big threat to that perfect world, for the Fintweg to have agreed so readily to the deal, with no haggling. But could he trust it, could he trust Gryff to honour its side of the bargain?
The eynputna leant forward, stroking his chin, and quietly asked, “So, in fair trade, now we have our deal agreed, tell me…how did you manage to get here without being captured? We’ve had all the roads watched.”
Craith narrowed his eyes at first, but could then see no harm in telling him: “We came through t’forest.”
“Through the forest? All the way?”
“Aye, right up to t’geetholden. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I just wondered, that’s all.”
They were silent for a moment, then Craith remembered: “You asked me ‘When’, Eynputna, but I can only say ‘Once I’ve spoken with Janeen’. She has the final word on this.”
“In which case, you had best do just that, and preferably with the least delay. I’ll arrange for you to be taken back to the geetholden, so you can be on your way. But, Craith, for all our sakes, I hope Janeen instructs you to shake on this deal. The sooner we get back to how we were, the better for all concerned—even your wolves.”
But Craith was left wondering just how inclusive that “all” had really been.
41 A Smile Soon to be Missed
The wolves silently swirled about Craith’s feet as he hurried across the geetholden’s courtyard, along between the picked bones of the donkeys in its stockyards and out through its entrance. He stood at the side of the road, facing into the darkness of the forest. Despite niggling doubts crowding his mind, he raised his arms above his head and waved them as he swayed from side to side.
The wolves eyed him curiously.
It wasn’t long before Craith heard movement beside the wall, the dim gap between it and the bushes soon darkening further at someone’s shadow. Janeen appeared, crouching to squeeze through and out, then stood before him, dishevelled and dirty but more beautiful than Craith remembered.
Neither spoke at first, not for a few hanging moments, but then they embraced, hugging each other tightly.
“I’ve been so worried about you, Craith,” she said, her voice muffled against his neck. “I feared the worst when I heard the uproar from the wolves, then even more so when they all went silent.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t ease my own worries much, Janeen, when I tell you Gryff have agreed to the deal. Even less so that they’ve not quibbled over it.”
She drew away, and he knew that, from behind her pain-guard, she searched his face.
“I know,” he sighed. “You don’t have to say it. Trust in Solem,” to which a smile broke across her face. It gave him the answer he’d dreaded. “So, what I want you to do now is to wait out here,” and he helped her step down onto the road, through the mass of wolves and to its crown, turning her to face into the geetholden.
“Can you mind-see the entrance to the low building beyond the courtyard?”
“No, Craith, but I can see a long, low blackness that I think could be it.”
“Of course. I should have thought. In which case, watch as I return and I’ll wave before going back in. Then wait until I come out again and do my silly wave. That’ll mean all’s ready to complete the deal and I’ll come for you, to help you through the geetholden.”
He hugged her again, stroking her back, but was about to turn away when Janeen wrapped her arms about his neck and drew him in to a long and passionate kiss. The warmth and softness of her lips drained much of his worries, displacing them with an affirmed trust in her own fate. Without need for another word, they slipped apart and Craith returned through the geetholden, but now on lighter feet.
At the door to the building, he turned and waved before squeezing back in through the meagre gap the biscop had allowed.
“Is your demon ready, then?” the biscop asked, now flanked by a number of dignitaries Craith had never seen before.
“Yes,” Craith assured him, “provided you are.”
The biscop held up three sheets of paper, then hung their mass of squiggles before Craith’s eyes.
“Er, I’ll trust they’re what we’ve agreed,” and he felt his face flush.
But before a grin could settle on the biscop’s face, the eynputna suggested, “So, shall we shake on our deal, then?” and Craith stepped towards him but was directed to the biscop. “It’s his Most-Esteemed Biscop who now has authority in this matter, Craith. And these men who’ll witness it.”
Craith and the biscop stood before each other, awkwardly until the eynputna cleared his throat as he came to stand beside them. “In payment of our three promises, as declared in the Esteemed Biscop Driscoll’s affirmations,” and the biscop raised them again so all could see, “are we agreed that we have a deal for your demon, Janeen Toynbow of Delph? That in exchange for these affirmations, she will be placed entirely in our keeping?”
The biscop offered his hand, Craith staring at it for a long moment before taking its damp softness into his own cold and clammy grasp. Then they shook, the biscop the firmer of the two.
“If you wouldn’t mind, but can we now exchange the goods?” the biscop said, tersely, as he smartly withdrew his hand.
Craith nodded, not trusting his own voice, and was allowed back outside, the crack of the door behind him soon filling with eyes. Again, Craith waved and swayed, and was about to step out into the courtyard when movement at the far side brought him up short.
Half a dozen bears lumbered into the gap between the stockyards, Janeen astride the foremost. The wolves snapped and snarled but kept their distance, the bears pointing their snouts this way and that, sniffing and staring about the geetholden.
Out into the courtyard they padded, their swaying bulks diminishing the space about them, their blackness stark against the lighter hues of stone and cobbles and setts. When Barny brought Janeen before the door, the flanking bears heaved themselves upright onto their hind legs, their forepaws paddling at the tense air before them. They growled in unison, baring their teeth for a moment before fixing their gazes on Craith, and behind him the door.
“I see Barny turned up, and wi’ some of his mates,” he commented to Janeen, and she smiled—that radiant smile Craith knew he would soon miss.
Sharp intakes of breath came from beyond the door when he went amongst the bears to help Janeen dismount, its eye-filled gap even narrower as he escorted her to stand before it.
“I’ve delivered the goods,” Craith directed through the slowly widening gap, his heart sinking. He could now make out the biscop’s features.
“If…if you…if you would both come through,” the man’s now unusually small voice instructed, “we can then make the exchange.” His face vanished from view, the eynputna’s quickly replacing it.
“Come on, you two. In you come,” the eynputna said, opening the door wider.
“Why the two of us, Craith?” Janeen asked, remaining where she was as the bears grumbled, low in their throats.
“Because I want to make sure you’re going to be all right.”
“All right? But that wasn’t the deal, Craith. I never—”
“No; it was mine. Please, Janeen. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I…I don’t think my heart could take it.”
She faced him, unmoving, silent, her head beginning to shake from side to side until he took her hand. “Maybe you should trust me for a change, eh, Janeen? Trust in what Solem may wish to do through me.”
Slowly, she nodded and turned once more to face the door. “Then lead on, Craith,” and in a smaller voice added, “my new-made demon.”
42 A Last Embrace
Only the eynputna was there to usher them in, a huge grin on his face.
“Come in, come in,” he fussed. “So, you are our misplaced demon,” he said, staring at Janeen’s face, and in particular at her pain-guard. “Well, I suppose I should welcome you to Gryff. I’m Eynputna, servant to the Fintweg, and no
w your escort.”
Janeen seemed too overwhelmed to answer.
“We haven’t much time, my dear, what with the wolves…and now the bears, of all things, clogging up our daily business, and… Well, the sooner you’re…you’re safely in the sanctuary, the better.”
“Sanctuary?” Craith said.
“Yes, yes, where Janeen’s, er…bewitching won’t be a problem.”
“A problem?”
But Janeen put her hand on Craith’s arm. “Eynputna’s right. Gryff can’t have me bringing wonder into its folk’s minds; it would only upset its ways.”
“But, Janeen—”
“She’s quite correct,” the eynputna assured Craith. “You see, we have a safe place where all demons are sent. She’ll be…be amongst her own kind there, then our world can get back to what it should be, and you can get back to Crook’s Fold.”
“But I…I didn’t think it’d be this fast. I mean, look at her; she needs a good bath first, and a decent meal.”
“That can all be attended to in the…in the sanctuary. So, the sooner Janeen’s there, the sooner—”
“Eynputna, if you wouldn’t mind,” Janeen said firmly, “but can we get straight there? I want this over with,” and her voice had begun to quaver.
“Of course, my dear. Of course,” and he briefly bowed his head. “Follow me.”
Craith took Janeen’s arm and carefully steered her through to the reception building’s rear door and out onto the stone road that led to Gryff. The place seemed empty, none of the crowds Craith had earlier witnessed, no groups of Gryffians rushing to defend the gate against the wolves, no onlookers marvelling at the disruption to their previously unchanging, age-long routines.
When they went in through Gryff’s entrance, the eynputna led them into a deserted ground floor corridor that ran away from the inanute room. Despite the better footing for Janeen, though, it was still a good quarter of an hour before they reached its end and there turned into yet another that ran along the noon-high side of the building. Sunlight slanted in through its windows, marking the drawing end of what to Craith already seemed like a very long day.
A few minutes later and the eynputna came to a halt before a wide opening in the corridor’s inner wall. Steps led down to a broad but shallow space set before a long opening in its far wall. Craith helped Janeen down, following the eynputna.
They now stood before a deep and oddly shaped recess. Its tapered side walls led to a shorter inward curving wall at its furthest side, the nearest edge of its floor marked by a narrow outward arcing gap. Nothing more than the mellow evening light filled the space.
The eynputna gazed at Janeen, long enough to make Craith feel uneasy, but the man then briefly shook his head and cleared his throat.
“This is the entrance to the demon sanctuary, and where, I’m afraid, you must now say your goodbyes. I’ll just go and have a look out at the forest for a short while, to give you a little time together.”
As his footsteps climbed away, then receded a short way along the corridor, Craith turned to face Janeen, her hand still in his. He tried to drink in her every feature, even her grubby pain-guard, now so much a part of her.
“I can’t believe it’s come to this so soon, Janeen. I really can’t.” Although her head had tipped forward, as though she studied their clasped hands, he could feel her resolve, knew it would be futile to try to change her mind.
“I’ll… I’ll really miss you, Craith. I wish things could have been different, but it could never—”
“I know, Janeen. I think I always have, but it doesn’t make it any easier…” She swiftly slipped her hand from his and wrapped it around his neck, her lips invitingly against his own, her breath sweet in his mouth. They may both have been dirty and unkempt, but her hair to him felt fresh and flowing, her skin as pure and as soft as thistledown. He drew her closer, hoping to squeeze hours into minutes as he tried to deny what he knew was coming.
Then a distant bell rang out and the eynputna discretely coughed nearby. “Loss is oft made the worse by the waiting,” he softly said.
When Craith looked towards his voice, he found the eynputna standing a little way off, to one side of the recess, his head bowed, arms hanging before him, hands folded—like someone at a funeral.
Alarm began to rise in Craith’s mind as he gazed one last time upon Janeen’s strangely tranquil face, her arms now at her sides, the ghost of her kiss lingering on his lips. But then the eynputna was at her side, his hand lightly on her shoulder, and she turned away from Craith and stared ahead, to where that hand now gently directed her. She freely stepped beyond its reach, into the recess, and Craith’s heart sank.
“You’ll do there, Janeen,” the eynputna told her, and she stopped and turned to face them, both gazing in at the lonely figure she now made. “You’ll feel yourself move shortly,” he said, making his way to a handle beside the recess. “It’s nothing to be worried about. It’ll all end after a minute or two.”
He pulled the handle and the muffled sound of a distant bell once again rang out. A slight jerk, and the recess slowly and silently moved in an arc to one side, one wall sliding away along a curved inner one, the other sweeping across in its wake. A following but empty cubicle had already begun to appear.
Craith shot an entreating look at the eynputna, but the man clearly avoided Craith’s eyes, only staring down at the floor, his hands again clasped before him. Craith felt panic well from his stomach, and he swung back to Janeen.
As the recess steadily angled her away, she slowly turned her face to keep her unique gaze upon him, her lips quivering, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. But then she lifted one hand, as the opening shrank to but a few short feet, and slowly blew him a kiss.
“Something grown out of fear” he remembered her saying, what now seemed so long ago, and he heard his own voice, as though it were another’s. “But, Janeen, ‘Fear can do odd things to us’, and I fear your loss like no other,” at which he leapt with all his might and dived at the steadily closing gap.
He almost squeezed through, but pain seared along one leg before his body slammed hard against the cubicle’s now darkening floor, his arms outstretched towards Janeen as she yelped in surprise. When he recovered his breath and angled himself around, to look back at the bright but now narrow gap, he realised his foot had become jammed within it.
“You stupid damned idiot,” the eynputna hurled through from the other side. “What in Dwargstor were you thinking?”
Craith winced at the pressure on his foot, then felt Janeen by his side. “It weren’t m’mind’s deciding,” he spat back, “but m’heart’s,” and he tried to wrench his foot free. “Just move this blasted wall t’other way, will you. So I can get m’foot out.”
The eynputna’s silence unnerved Craith. “Eynputna? You still there?” but the silence only lengthened. “Come on, say summat.”
The eynputna had clearly positioned his mouth close to the gap, for he now almost whispered, “But, lad, it only goes the one way; it can’t be turned back. It’s an entrance, you fool; an entrance only.”
As Craith tried to take this in, he felt his bootlaces being untied, then the boot’s tongue tugged hard to open it wide.
“Hey! What you doing?”
“Your boot’s trapped at the heel. If you can slip your foot out as I pull, you should both part company.” Craith wriggled his foot. “At least then I’ll have a memento of your pointless passing from this world, you pitiable idiot,” was the last Craith heard from the eynputna as his foot slid out of his boot. He jerked back into Janeen’s arms, the cubicle now lurching once more into motion, engulfing them both in utter darkness.
Without saying a word, they wrapped themselves tightly into what Craith was now convinced would be their very last embrace, thankful of even these few more moments in Janeen’s now trembling arms.
43 Where All Demons Must Go
Eyes tight shut, as tight as his arms about Janeen, Craith bore the long
est minute of his life—his last he was sure. Only the occasional rumble through the floor told him they were moving, a gentle lurch that they’d finally come to a halt.
A silence so profound it felt deafening nerved him to open an eye, but what he saw over Janeen’s shoulder soon widened them both.
He stared into an everyday kind of room, one that could have been anywhere within The Espousal, although too brightly green lit for the light of the small window in its far wall. Through what looked like winter-frosted glass came the impression of a forest glade, of a bright day’s foliage-filtered sunlight dappling a pale green abundance of ferns.
So mundane a sight brought relief flooding through Craith, but a flood that failed to dislodge his persisting doubts. Somehow, he and his beloved Janeen were still alive, alive and in a silence and stillness that bore so heavily upon him that he welled with tears, and he soon began sobbing.
Janeen stirred and lifted her face to his.
“Craith?” she whispered, her voice thin and distant but still seeming loud in his ears. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
He drew her closer and buried his face in her neck, overwhelmed, hardly hearing his own words through the turmoil of his feelings.
“I was… I was so sure we’d…we’d have been dead by now.” She ran her fingers through his hair, strangely calm and self-possessed.
“Dead? Yes, and so I too had thought until now.”
Her lips found his, the salt of his tears mingling with their sweetness, his fears slowly becalming. When her mouth drew away, she smiled. “Don’t worry, Craith,” and she kissed him again. “The fear I had at entering here has brought back more memories. You remember when you and Slobber saved me from that fall, on the rocky climb?” and he nodded. “Well, I now recall speaking with Solem then, heard her as clearly as I now hear you. It’ll be all right, Craith; you’ll see. It’s all beginning to make some sense. Have patience, my love.”
She kissed him again, tenderly, reassuringly, then turned to face behind her.
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