Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Wuz folded his wings, stretched out his legs, carefully withdrew his claws, and landed on Poppy’s shoulder. Poppy grinned at him and scratched the scales on top of his head. “Well now,” said Wuz in his gruff little voice, “that was such a lot of fun, wasn’t it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Hermes flew almost to the front door of the cottage, and landed with a hop and a jump, folding his wings with a sigh. Little Seed tumbled off onto the grass. Nathan followed.

  Winter was still blowing an icy wind, although Nathan could see the first buds of new leaf on some of the trees. He took the little silent girl’s hand, and led her to the cottage. Hermes waddled along beside them. The child was shy and obviously frightened. She was small, round faced, and wore only a simple blue ankle-length smock. Her feet were bare, and her hair was a large tangle of tight black curls, just like the fur of the three-headed dog. Unable to speak, she clung to Nathan’s hand, and shivered.

  Having been looking out of the cottage window, Granny came running out as soon as she saw her grandson. “Dearest Nathan. And Hermes. And your friend?”

  Granny looked like a granny, and Little Seed smiled.

  “She doesn’t speak,” said Nathan, hurrying inside. “I’ll speak for her. But there’s a lot to say. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Poppy?” Nobody had. “Bother,” said Nathan. “But I do know she’s alright.”

  Bayldon came bustling from the garden, where he had been clearing the snow from the paths. “My dearest boy. Come into the warm. The fire’s built high, the logs are crackling, there’s hot cider bubbling in the pot, everyone else is discussing the usual plans and possibilities, and you are most welcome. And your young friend, of course.”

  “I think I’ll bake a cake,” said granny and returned to the kitchen.

  Nathan went to find his mother, leaving Little Seed in the passage, and pointed to a chair.

  Messina, Sherdam, Tryppa and Zakmeister were relaxing in the larger living room where the fire was blazing up the chimney, and the smell of spiced drinks, shortbread and burning logs was most welcoming. Each of them stood when Nathan entered, and came to kiss his cheek or take his hand. “Finally, the empole is here,” smiled his mother.

  Nathan flopped into one of the big squashy armchairs. “I’ve brought someone rather surprising with me,” he said, and began to explain. “She’s the same one Braxton enslaved and called Tansle, but her real name is Sansell or Seed or Sile.”

  “And which -?”

  “Because she has three heads. Yes, I know, a lava wolf from Sparkan. But she seems miserable and sweet. Braxton thought she’d eat me when he trapped me before, but that was because he’d starved the poor thing. I doubt she’d have done it anyway. The girl can’t talk, which is what she is at the moment since we came with Hermes, but the wolf can talk. All three heads. Crazy.”

  “Bring the poor girl in.”

  Standing, ready to fetch Little Seed, Nathan nodded, but said, “It was William Octobr who led Braxton and the wolf to our safe-house in Peganda. I still don’t really know for sure if he’s a friend or an enemy.”

  “That man,” said Messina, also standing, “is a friend to himself and no one else. He will work with anyone who may bring benefit. He sides with us because he’s an Octobr. But he sides with the Hazletts because he believes they can help him. He wants his old power back.”

  “He wants his son and granddaughter. That’s fair.”

  “He’s a nasty conniving power-hungry manipulator,” insisted Bayldon, coming in behind Nathan.

  “That nice, eh?”

  Nathan smiled, said, “I’ll fetch Little Seed,” and hurried back out to the passageway. He took the girl’s hand and drew her into the warmth of the living room. Immediately, breathing in the heat from the fire, she smiled. Her appearance was not helped by the fact that they had both eaten a little on the journey, and Seed had munched on a large meaty bone. Now she had gravy juices, scraps of meat, and even a little blood around her mouth. “Wipe your mouth,” whispered Nathan, and offered her a hanky from his pocket. She licked her lips instead, grinning widely and showing her many sharp teeth.

  It was Sherdam who came over first, took the little girl’s hand and led her to a comfortable chair. “We are pleased to meet you,” he said. “And even more pleased to save you from what sounds like a horrible life, enslaved by a man of cruelty.”

  Zakmeister was furious. “My wicked brother,” he said between his teeth, “has a lot to answer for. I intend to find him and deal with him myself.”

  Messina turned, frowning. “We’ve looked for him before. He’s clever, and not so easy to find.”

  “Ask the girl.”

  “She can’t speak, unless she turns.”

  “I’ve no objections to speaking to a three-headed dog,” said Messina, as if she did it all the time. “Most of the animals here talk and those that don’t, certainly understand us.” Alan the llama, standing in the far corner and chewing a carrot, nodded cheerfully.

  Wriggling up from the depths of the armchair, the girl stood, looked up, and slowly blinked several times. There was a considerable intake of breath as the wolf appeared, but no one spoke.

  “I am,” said Seed, the central head, “glad to meet you all. I was abducted from Sparkan and have been almost starved and frequently beaten. I miss my family.”

  Around the heads, the fur was a flop of large black curls, but as the elongated necks joined into the muscled shoulders and then the back, legs and belly, the curls tightened. The tail was shaggy. Everyone was staring at her, and had she still been a little girl, she would have blushed scarlet.

  “Can you help us find Braxton?” asked Zakmeister at last.

  “If he realises I have escaped with the boy Nat, then Braxton will immediately change all his habits. But where he went previously – yes I know the places – all of them. Three houses, and one meeting place in the market.” The wolf sat before the fire, nodding all three heads, six eyes half closing from weariness.

  “Then we must feed you properly, my friend,’ said Messina. “We have spare beds, and you must sleep. We shall discuss our plans in more depth this evening. But while you wait for food, tell me this vile man’s homes and meeting places. While you sleep I shall take Hermes and go to find the traitor if I can.”

  Having slept the day through, Nathan awoke that evening to find an even larger party awaiting him. Everyone sat around the kitchen table, which was now longer than Nathan remembered it, but most outstanding was the presence of Ninester. He sat amongst the others, listening avidly to the Octobr gossip, and certainly looking nothing like a Hazlett. Little Seed was once again a silent little girl, stuffing her face with cake and biscuits all together, while Messina was saying, “Sadly I have searched Peganda, and in particular the places where our new young friend says Braxton goes. There is a small apartment where you first discovered him, Nathan. Nothing. No one at the market barn, no one at the larger apartment where I gather a whole troop of traitors live, and no one at the house where William Octobr used to live.”

  ‘He’s given us the slip once again,” grumbled Zakmeister. “But at least we know where he might go.”

  “Yet he knows our address here, and now he knows our house in the city. So we are more vulnerable than he is.”

  Ninester, his mouth full of cake, sat forwards, spat crumbs, and said, “We should go to the palace.”

  “The Palace of Bymion? In which ruined corner?” inquired Tryppa.

  Ninester managed to eat more cake. “The nice bit,” he said, smiling crumbs. “The bit upstairs.”

  They all stared at him except for his mother, who sat quietly at his side, nodding in approval, and Little Seed who attended only to her plate.

  Granny, bending over as she took another cake from the oven, looked around. “Well, there’s tunnels with spiders and that strange Chord of Destiny, the turrets where you can travel time, and the little fountain that takes you on top of the tower. So I suppose there are other magical plac
es there too.”

  “Oh yes,” said Ninester, looking eagerly at the new cake which Granny put on the table in place of the previous one, now just an empty platter. “There’s the Hall of Council, and the pass to the boathouse, but nicest is the top floor on the blue side. That’s where the queens always lived, when there was one.”

  “I used to live there,” sighed his mother. “But of course then Krillester threw me out to work in the kitchens.”

  “The blue side?”

  “There are three magic stairs to the secret rooms,” said the previous queen. “One from the back of the nursery, one from the back of the emperor’s chamber, and one from the library behind the fireplace.”

  “I doubt if the library’s still there.”

  “But the stairs will be,” nodded Irima, “because they were magic floating steps.”

  “Then you had better show us,” said Messina quietly. “Up at dawn tomorrow.”

  But for that evening, there was nothing left to do except eat cake.

  The usual glorious golden Lashtang dawn flooded through the windows of the cottage, blazing from gold into scarlet and finally fading into soft pinks, lilacs and hazy silver. But it was a frosty morning with tiny icicles in the grass and white crusts on the bare tree branches. The wind had dropped but the chill crept under the door and down the chimney. Zakmeister, stretching, hurried to light a fire, and Granny put the kettle on.

  Nathan rubbed his cold hands together. “Looks like when you ice a cake, Granny,” he said, “all white frosting outside.”

  “There’s snowdrops and daffodils growing in the valley beyond the cottage,” she answered. “Perhaps next time I should make a daffodil cake.”

  Messina had helped Little Seed to change her clothes, and now she wore a long warm dress of dark red wool, woolly stockings, sensible boots, and a big pink shawl. She looked happy, well fed, and energetic. But Messina said, “Now, my dear. I think it better we don’t take you to the palace this morning. Granny, Sherdam and Tryppa will stay here to protect you, just in case. Granny will make a chicken pie, just for you.”

  This delighted the child, and after a quick breakfast everyone else pulled on their boots, gloves, coats and hats, and trudged out into the ice to walk down to the palace. “We could magic ourselves,” frowned Zakmeister.

  “Too many of us,” said Messina, “and I want no smell of magic around in case Braxton is nearby. It’s not far and a brisk walk will warm us up.”

  Ninester was skipping. “Going to get the palace back. Fiddledy fadge. Going to live like an emperor. Woppity wop. Going to make Papa cry in his grave. Piggedly Pog.” He clutched his cuddly llama, and did not seem perturbed by the cold.

  The palace dripped icicles and snow. Its ruined walls and gaping holes stood stark against the bright sky, and where it had been blackened by fire, now the snow and frost had turned it white.

  Messina led, with Irima, Ninester and Nathan beside her. Zakmeister came behind, peering into shadows and waving his sword while Bayldon and Alan walked together at the rear.

  It seemed the weight of snow had created more destruction, for the great hall was almost open, its beautiful vaulted ceiling now crushed and broken. But they marched beyond this and climbed the principal staircase, making sure to avoid the splintered steps.

  Irima called softly, “Follow the stairs up one more flight.”

  And so they climbed to the second floor where the king’s quarter was, and Ninester had slept in his own grand bedchamber. But Irima did not lead them into those places. She passed the little fountain, which was now quite dry, and walked to the end of the corridor. Here a huge arch opened into a very large room of empty shelves and the burned remains of a thousand books, drifting ashes, and battered chairs.

  “All those beautiful books,” muttered Nathan, “all lost in the fire. There’s nothing left. What a terrible shame.”

  “One thing will be left,” called Ninester, still dancing up and down so the old wooden floor bounced with him. “Look, over there behind that shelf.”

  Irima walked forwards with Messina beside her and pushed against the beautiful carved side of one very tall shelf. Flowers and grapes had been carved in the wood, and although some were scorched and spoiled, Irima pushed into the very centre of a large wooden daisy, and at once the whole wall began to slide open.

  Nathan had expected a dark shadowed staircase hidden in the wood, but instead there was suddenly a great blaze of light. And into the light steps led, but this was no ordinary stair. Each step floated, each a different soft colour. As Irima climbed, the steps moved around with her, taking her upwards. She climbed very slowly, allowing the staircase to go in its own direction, and after just five little treads, she disappeared. They all heard her voice calling down to them. “Please come up. It is quite safe.”

  Enjoying the sensation of the floating steps, Nathan followed her, and the others after him. They all arrived in a wide and bright corridor, and six huge rooms opened off, three on each side. There was no sign of fire and no marks of destruction. The six rooms were truly beautiful, except for being thick with dust. Beneath the cobwebs and filmy grey dust, there were rich coloured carpets, comfortable chairs in blue satin, tables, sofas and footstools. Hearths were marble and decorated in gold, walls were covered in tapestries and paintings, while every ceiling was thick glass and the daylight shone through.

  “Oh, my goodness,’ breathed Messina, whirling around, arms out. “What a wonderful place. I should love to live here, and it is so secret. We would be very safe.”

  “I have horrible memories of living here,” Irima sighed. “I like the cosy cottage better. And there’s no kitchen here.”

  She walked into the last room which was decorated with long cream velvet curtains, and a huge patterned carpet. In the centre of one wall was an enormous four-poster bed, covered in embroidered quilts and curtained in cream velvet.

  Messina sat there, smiling. “If the dust is cleared, I would happily sleep here,” she said.

  “I was the last person ever to sleep in that bed,’ Irima murmured softly. “I do not ever want to touch that bed again.”

  Nathan stared up at the huge shimmering sky. He could see birds flying far off, seemingly in a line. He loved the birds of Lashtang, and sat on one of the wide satin chairs, watching the clouds and birds. Messina, Bayldon, and Zakmeister were marching through the rooms, discussing with each other how it would be best to arrange matters if they decided to move here. Meanwhile Ninester continued to hop around his mother’s old bedroom, and Irima herself sat on a hard chair beside the way out, declaring she wanted to leave.

  Then suddenly Nathan shouted, “It’s the sky-train. Someone’s coming. It’s landing outside.”

  “Move,” said Messina urgently “We must not be caught here by an enemy.”

  Everyone hurried back with the floating steps wobbling as they ran downstairs, and eventually grouped in the shadows of the great hall, watching for whoever might arrive. “Not Yaark or the Hazletts,” muttered Bayldon. “They would never take the sky-train. And wouldn’t ever need to. They have more magic themselves.”

  “Keep down,” hissed Messina, “and we will see. If there’s danger, I shall magic us all back to the cottage in an instant whizz.”

  In absolute silence, they all stood in one corner where piles of rubble hid them, and the shadows were dark. They could not be seen, but they could hear anything said outside. Irima and Nathan both clutched Ninester’s hands to warn him to keep silent, and Bayldon, clinging to Alan, stood behind Messina, determined to protect her. Zakmeister’s dark skin kept him well hidden in the shadows, and he stood in front, staring out at where the bird-train was swooping down onto the open courtyards and its covering of weeds.

  Five people stepped from the train, and it was Braxton who led, and sent it flying off again back to Peganda. He led two people behind him, both of them manacled and tied to wide leather leads around their necks. One was a tall man, but bent and clearly wounded. Th
e other was a little girl, her hands chained behind her back, and she was desperately crying.

  Zakmeister and Bayldon started to move forwards, but Messina put out an arm and held them back, whispering to wait.

  Braxton marched to the edge of the courtyard where an old stone bench, partially crumbled, stood facing out to the lake. There were two men with him, both unknown to the Octobrs. Braxton spoke first.

  “I’ll throw these two into the dungeons here,” he said. “And put a spell on the doors, so any of those meddlesome rebels will find themselves burned if they try to magic the doors open. Afterwards, I intend using the time-travelling spots on the turrets, and take you both into the new world. There we need to buy up guns and other weapons. Guns are unknown here in Lashtang, but I promise you, they’ll win the war for us if we can bring back enough of them.”

  “Let’s arrive in summer,’ laughed one of the other men. “I’ve had enough of the cold.”

  The third man kicked out at the little girl. “Wake up, brat. We might unchain your hands once you’re in the dungeons.”

  “Food, please?” she whispered, and the other prisoner tried to comfort her, but his hands were also chained behind his back.

  “I might throw you a crumb.” The second man laughed again.

  Braxton said, “I don’t want them dead. They’re the only tool we have against that old fool of a blind man. Find some food somewhere, or kill one of those wretched crows up on the roof, and cook it.”

  “They can eat it raw,” said the third man, and stomped over to the main staircase leading to the roof.

  Braxton was left with the second man. “Well, Grandiak, let’s drag these two down to the cells.”

  Messina and her group heard the metal doors slam and lock downstairs, and stayed where they were. Finally the other man appeared with a dead bird, and he strode down to throw it through the grill bars to their two prisoners. Finally all three ran up the main stairs, and could be heard climbing to the turreted roof. After a few moments there was absolute quiet except for the wind, and the cawing of the crows.