by Various
Soon she was running up the incline and through the woodland back towards the town.
She was exhausted by the time she reached the distillery. The manager listened to her breathless story of strange creatures planning to destroy the town. As she spoke, Andiba’s frustration grew; it became increasingly obvious that the manager did not believe a word of what she was telling him.
When she finished, the man smiled and told her it was an interesting story – she evidently had a very active imagination. Despite her protests, he showed her out of his office and pointed her towards the main doors of the distillery.
Furious and frustrated, Andiba made her way out of the distillery. She walked past the great metal chambers where the wine and vinegar bubbled away, fermenting. With every step, she became more determined to do something – the only problem was that she had no idea what she could do.
She was paying little attention to where she was going, and, on her way out the doors, Andiba collided with someone coming into the distillery. She stepped back, apologising. It was only when the person spoke that she realised who she had bumped into. It was Vash.
‘Andiba?’ he said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’
Andiba was so relieved to see someone she knew that she almost burst into tears. Vash could see she was upset, so he led her to a bench outside and they sat down.
Andiba told him everything that had happened. To her surprise, Vash did not laugh or tell her she was imagining it. His frown deepened as she went on.
‘Do you believe me?’ she demanded when she had finished.
He shrugged. ‘Why would you lie? It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing anyone would make up.’
Before either of them could say another word, a cart drew up close by. One of the distillery workmen hurried to help the rather portly driver down. In the back of the cart were four huge wooden barrels, just like the ones the distillery used to ship the wine and vinegar.
But it was the driver who held all of Andiba’s attention. She had seen his wide, smiling face before – but limp and dead.
‘That’s him,’ she hissed to Vash. ‘The driver – it’s one of the Slitheen.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course,’ she told him, shuddering. ‘It’s not a face I shall ever forget.’
The driver had gone inside the distillery. Vash hurried over to speak to the man who had helped the driver down from the cart. When he came back, he told Andiba, ‘The man has gone to see my father. Apparently he has important business with him, about some new distilling process he has developed and which he thinks will interest him.’
‘He’s lying!’ Andiba insisted.
Vash agreed. ‘I think you’re right, but Father won’t listen to you. He probably won’t listen to me either … but wait here while I’ll go to the office and find out what’s going on. Then we can decide what best to do.’
Andiba nodded. ‘All right.’
She waited nervously for Vash, and every moment seemed to last forever.
After what felt like an eternity, the driver of the cart returned. He stood by and supervised several workmen while they unloaded the four enormous barrels and carried them inside the distillery. Andiba saw the workmen place the barrels in a corner of the main distilling area. Then the cart driver spoke to the manager again. Andiba could see Vash standing nearby, listening.
Andiba watched as the cart driver prised open one of the big barrels, then gestured to its contents while speaking to the manager and Vash. He then replaced the lid, and the three of them headed off into the main part of the distillery.
Andiba was beginning to wonder if the men would ever return when the cart driver reappeared. He walked briskly out of the main doors, barely glancing at Andiba before he clambered back up on to the cart and drove away.
Vash followed a few moments later. He sat down beside Andiba.
‘I think you’re right about the vinegar,’ he said. ‘Father gave that man a tour of the distillery, but he kept well back from the vinegar and wouldn’t even pick up a bottle. It was as if he was afraid he would be burned by it.’
‘What was in the barrels he delivered?’ Andiba asked.
‘He said it was wine. He promised us it is the very best wine we will ever taste, and he said he’d come back tomorrow to explain the process he used to make it. It’s funny,’ Vash went on, ‘but he insisted we shouldn’t taste the wine until he comes back.’
‘Then I think we should certainly taste it now,’ Andiba said.
Vash nodded. ‘I agree. Let me talk to my father. Even he thought there was something odd about that man – I could tell.’
Vash’s father was busy, but it was nearly the end of the working day. He agreed that after the workers had gone home and the distillery was shut down for the night he would examine the wine in the barrels the man had brought.
It was dark outside by the time Vash’s father was ready. Most of the lights in the distillery were off, and the whole place had an eerie feel to it. Just as the cart driver had done earlier, Vash’s father prised the lid off one of the barrels. He picked up a long ladle used for tasting the wine, and dipped it into the liquid. Andiba and Vash watched as he raised the ladle to his lips and took a sip. His expression did not change as he slowly lowered the ladle and tipped the remaining liquid on to the floor. It was colourless.
‘Is it the best wine you’ve ever tasted?’ Vash asked.
‘It’s water,’ his father replied, then he turned to Andiba. ‘You think this is somehow connected to the creatures you say you saw?’
Andiba nodded, relieved that he seemed at last to believe her story. ‘They talked about infiltrating the distillery,’ she said. ‘And I think I know how they plan to do it.’ She led Vash and his father away from the barrels. ‘They said they only had one body suit, one human disguise, but I saw four of these Slitheen.’
‘And there are four barrels,’ Vash’s father said thoughtfully.
‘One is full of water,’ Vash added. ‘But what about the other three?’
‘Perhaps we should find out?’ his father suggested. ‘But first we should make sure that we are armed, that we have some sort of weapon with which to protect ourselves if need be. Perhaps we should send for the constable.’
‘No,’ Andiba said. ‘There’s no time. Now that the distillery is closed for the night, the Slitheen – if they are indeed hidden in those barrels – could come out at any time. They plan to destroy the entire distillery.’
‘It’s fortunate then that we might have just the weapon we need right here,’ said Vash.
‘This is a distillery, not an arsenal,’ his father pointed out. ‘What weapon could we possibly have here?’
Vash smiled. ‘Vinegar!’
It took some effort to persuade Vash’s father that vinegar could be the weapon they needed; and Vash and Andiba were not entirely convinced themselves. But, based on what they had overheard and seen, it made sense. Why else would the Slitheen be so worried about the vinegar if not because it was a threat to them? First Andiba had overheard the four Slitheen talking about destroying the distillery, then the visiting cart driver had been afraid to go anywhere near the vinegar. Andiba, Vash and his father might not understand exactly what about the vinegar terrified the Slitheen, but it was increasingly clear that it might be their only – and best – defence against them.
Not far from where the Slitheens’ barrels had been placed stood a huge vat of vinegar, waiting to be bottled. Vash and his father attached a hose to the outlet tap at the base of the vat, then Vash and Andiba held the heavy hose and aimed it at the nearest of the Slitheens’ barrels. Vash had his hand on the valve at the end of the hose; when he and Andiba were ready, Vash nodded to his father.
They watched anxiously as Vash’s father pried the lid off a second barrel. Inside, the barrel was a mass of shadows; it was instantly obvious that there was no liquid in it. As the three of them looked on, the shadows began to move, as if they were uncoiling
.
Suddenly a long, muscular arm lashed out, just missing Vash’s father. He took a step backwards as the creature inside the barrel unfolded itself completely and stood up.
Vash opened the valve on the hose. Vinegar gushed out over the Slitheen.
For a moment, the Slitheen held its round, dark eyes on Vash and Andiba. For a moment, Andiba thought they had made a terrible mistake. But then the creature gave a roar of pain and anger, and exploded. Sticky, gooey fragments splattered across the floor.
At once the other two barrels began to shudder. Just as one shattered, sending wooden splinters flying across the room, Vash and Andiba turned the hose. The Slitheen that had been inside the now busted barrel hurled itself at the two of them – but the spray of vinegar from the hose caught it full on. Moments later, it too exploded into a glutinous mess.
The third Slitheen was just seconds behind. Having realised the fate of its fellows, it did not attack, but instead turned and ran for the main doors. Vash adjusted the valve on the hose, increasing the pressure of the liquid coming through. The spray lengthened, following the Slitheen until it eventually caught up and hosed down the creature’s back. The Slitheen threw up its hands, and in an instant was gone in a squelching splat.
‘Well,’ said Vash’s father, ‘it looks like there’ll be some tidying up to do in the morning.’
‘What will the last Slitheen do when it finds out what has happened?’ Andiba wondered.
‘It will have to come back tomorrow to see if their plan worked,’ Vash said.
‘And,’ his father told them, ‘we shall be ready and waiting.’
The next day, when the cart pulled up and the large man climbed down, Vash’s father hurried out to greet him. Vash and Andiba followed. If the Slitheen disguised as a man was surprised to see no sign of trouble at the distillery, he hid it well.
‘We are so anxious to try your wine,’ Vash’s father said. ‘Although we shall have to clear the barrels first,’ he went on. ‘We had some new equipment delivered after you had gone yesterday. We don’t have much spare room, so we had to store it on top of your barrels. It’s very heavy.’
The man nodded and smiled as though this made perfect sense. ‘So long as we can move it to open my barrels,’ he said. ‘I think I can safely say that you are in for a surprise.’
‘One of us is,’ Andiba murmured to herself.
‘Of course,’ Vash’s father said to the man. ‘We’ll open the barrels in a moment.’
‘But first we brought some of our own wine for you to try,’ Vash said.
Andiba handed the man a wine bottle and a glass. ‘See how you like this vintage,’ she said.
The man seemed reluctant to drink, but they insisted, telling him they would open his barrels as soon as he had sampled the produce of the local vineyards.
So the man poured a small measure into his glass. ‘It’s an unusual colour,’ he remarked as he inspected the wine through the glass.
‘It’s an unusual wine,’ Vash said. ‘It’s traditional to drink it down in one gulp, and without smelling it. The joy in this wine comes from the taste alone, but it has a notoriously bad bouquet.’
The man did as Vash suggested.
At once his expression changed. His hand went to his throat. ‘That’s not wine,’ he gasped.
‘No,’ said Andiba. ‘It’s vinegar.’
Moving quickly, she, Vash and Vash’s father stepped away so that they were well back when the vinegar took its lethal effect.
‘More mess to clear up,’ Vash’s father sighed.
Although she had enjoyed working in the bread shop, Andiba far preferred the job that Vash’s father gave her, coordinating the business strategy at the distillery. She saw Vash every day, and every day they grew closer until one day they realised they had fallen in love.
Andiba knew that she and Vash would never lack for anything. She had not forgotten the strange metal building that was hidden just outside the town; she alone knew the secret words that would open the door. Inside, there were jewels and riches beyond imagination. Even after they had shared Andiba’s precious discovery with the rest of the townsfolk, Andiba and Vash would be able to live more than comfortably for the rest of their days.
Vash’s father could not have been more pleased, for his son was to marry a young woman whose bravery and intelligence were beyond measure. At Andiba and Vash’s wedding, he served only the very finest of all his wines.
A long time ago, when the universe was a much smaller and newer place, there lived a girl called Melina. Since before Melina could even remember, her best friend in the whole world had been a boy called Varan. As they grew up, the two remained the closest of friends and, gradually, their friendship turned into love. The day that Varan asked Melina to marry him was the happiest of her life.
But, if that day was her happiest, then the next was certainly one of the strangest. Melina’s mind was already on the wedding; her thoughts were taken up with who to invite, what sort of dress she should wear and a dozen other tiny details. Every wedding-related thought caused her a flutter of excitement.
Melina’s happiness was written across her face when she answered a knock at the door of the small abode she shared with several friends. Melina could not help smiling at the stranger who stood there looking back at her. He was a very ordinary-looking man dressed in a dark suit and carrying a briefcase.
‘I hear that congratulations are in order,’ the man said. Then, before Melina was quite sure how, he was inside and sitting on a threadbare chair with his briefcase balanced on his knees.
‘How did you know?’ Melina asked, because she and Varan had not yet told anyone about their engagement.
The man smiled thinly. ‘You seem very happy,’ he said, and Melina had to agree.
The man looked coldly around the tiny, untidy room before he went on. ‘But how can you hope to remain happy together,’ he asked, ‘when you are both so poor? I have seen where Varan lives, and his place is just as small and rundown as this. How are you paying for this accommodation? What about your debts that remain to be paid? Do you even have anything to eat?’
Melina felt her happiness begin to ebb away. Even if what the man said was unkind, there was no mistaking the truth of his words.
‘But Varan and I have each other,’ Marina told him. ‘That’s more than enough to keep us happy. Our love is worth more than riches.’
The man nodded as if he had expected just such an answer. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘Even so, wouldn’t you rather be free of such troubles? Wouldn’t you like to live in a delightful cottage of your own, with no cause to worry about how to pay your way or where the next meal might come from?’
‘Of course, but I don’t see how that could be possible,’ Melina said.
The man smiled and opened his briefcase. ‘Then it is lucky I’m here.’ He took out some papers, and flicked through them, as if to remind himself of the contents, before saying, ‘I have a proposition for you.’
Melina frowned. She was wary – she knew people who had borrowed money and been forced to pay back far more than they had been given. When she heard the amount of money the man mentioned, though, her eyes widened. Her mind immediately turned to all of the things she and Varan could do with it – a delightful cottage would barely dent such a sum.
‘You are right to be wary,’ the man said. ‘But I promise you this is a good deal.’
‘How much would we have to pay back?’ Melina asked. ‘And how soon?’
‘Nothing,’ the man said.
‘Nothing?’ Melina was uncertain. It seemed too good to be true.
‘Not a penny.’ The man handed her the papers. ‘Think of it as a gift.’
Melina stared at the papers, but she was unable to focus on even a single word. ‘But surely you must want something for it,’ she said. She was having trouble believing that someone would just give away such a vast amount of money, and wanted to make sure she wasn’t being tricked.
�
�All I ask in return,’ said the man, ‘is your tears.’
Melina opened her mouth in surprise. ‘My tears?’
‘Oh, not all of them,’ the man said. ‘Just the tears that you cry on one day: your wedding day.’
Melina laughed at that. ‘But that will be the happiest day of my life,’ she told him.
The man smiled back at her. ‘Then it will be a simple debt to pay.’ He stood up. ‘Let me leave the document with you. There are two copies. Read it carefully and, when you are sure that you have understood it and everything is in order, sign both copies. I shall return tomorrow to collect the signed agreement and to give you the money.’
‘What if I decide not to sign?’ Melina asked.
‘Then we shall both be disappointed. But I think you will see that this is an excellent opportunity for you – for you and for your future husband. Oh, just one thing,’ the man added, ‘this must be our secret. Please tell no one of our agreement, not even Varan. Tell him you saved up the money, or inherited it, or that you won it somehow.’
The next day, the man returned, as he had promised he would. Melina had read the document carefully, then read it several more times. It was quite short and very clear: she would be given the money and, in return, all that was asked was that she surrender the tears she cried on her wedding day. She could see no disadvantage at all, no possible catch. And so she signed both copies of the agreement and handed them back to the man.
He checked them thoroughly, then signed his own name next to Melina’s and handed one copy back to her. ‘The money will be with you as soon as I leave,’ he told her. ‘Spend it wisely. On your wedding day I shall return to collect your tears.’
‘If I cry any,’ Melina said.
The man did not answer. He simply smiled coolly, then left.
True to her word, Melina did not tell even Varan how she had really come into so much money. All she told him was that she had won a lottery, and when Varan pressed her for details she simply said, ‘Why does it matter, my love? All we need to worry about now is what to do with it.’