by Perrin Briar
Elsie kept her eyes on the floor, and headed for the door. As she stepped through it, she paused and stepped back as two more constables came into the shop. Only once they’d moved aside did she then proceed out the door, the young blond man hot on her heels. The distinguished constable peered around the shop.
“I appear to have scared off your customers,” he said.
Miss Argust smiled her most winning smile.
“I shouldn’t think that’s the case,” she said. “They probably just remembered one chore or another they had to carry out. How can I help you, Captain Timon?”
“We’re looking for the Wythnos girls, Kali and Jera. Have you seen them?”
He took a photograph out of his pocket. With a hasty glance they would have looked identical, but with a few seconds’ inspection the differences became clear. Kali was the prettier of the two with perfect features and long platinum blonde hair. Jera had a larger nose and hair streaked with brown.
“Not since yesterday,” Miss Argust said without venom. “Please, won’t you and your men take a seat?”
“My men are still on duty, but I’ll take a seat, if I may. It gets harder every year to stay on one’s feet for extended periods of time.”
The captain sat on a stool, the bottom of his long jacket hanging a few inches above the floor.
“I must say,” Captain Timon said, looking at Craig’s clock buns. “These look absolutely delicious.”
He looked up at Miss Argust.
“May I?” he said.
“Absolutely not!” Miss Argust said. “A captain and his fellow constables of the Force deserve better than these common iced buns.”
Captain Timon smiled.
“They’re quite acceptable, I assure you.”
“Believe me, sir,” Miss Argust said, “these cakes are indeed delicious but we have something special for you and your men that will make your taste buds explode with pleasure.”
The captain smiled.
“How can I refuse?” he said.
Miss Argust turned to Craig.
“Craig, see to your other duties and then bring the cakes out for the kind constables,” she said. “Make sure to give the constables the special ones now, won’t you? We want to show the constables our gratitude.”
Miss Argust nodded with meaning, and Craig took the empty trays through into the back of the shop. He pushed the swing doors open so they did not shut and were left wide open. The voices came through loud and clear.
“Any updates on locating the missing girls?” Miss Argust said.
“Alas, no,” Captain Timon said. “Though we have some leads. The eldest – Jera – was seen to be several hundred miles to the north east, near the Dreary Mountains, and then we received another report putting her to the south.”
Craig put the empty trays back in the oven and closed it. He turned the oven off. Then he scooped up the remnants of various vegetables at the end of the table and chopped them up with a knife. He slid them into a small sack.
“We’re chasing our tail, if you must know,” Captain Timon said. “The reward for her safe return seems to have inspired the imaginations of a good many people. And though we attempt to investigate every lead we are left with very little…”
The voices became quiet as Craig went outside into the alley that ran behind the shop. There was a cocktail of smells out here: hops from the brewer, sugar of hard-boiled sweets from Silver’s Sweet Shop, and the aroma of soap from the cleaners on the corner. And underneath it all was the distinct whiff of sewage from the backed-up pipes under the pavement.
One hundred yards from Craig’s location was a man stood on the back of a cart handing crates to another man who stacked them on the ground. Craig went over to Maurice the donkey and put a calming hand on the back of his neck. He came to a stop. Craig put a feedbag on over his mouth and looped the strap over his head. There was the sound of contented munching. Craig unfastened the arm, took Maurice by the bridle and led him toward the back door of the shop. Craig started.
There were two figures in white uniforms stood beside the bakery’s back door. One was a man, the other an attractive but severe-looking woman. She was filing her nails. She put the finger she was filing to her lips in a gesture of silence, before continuing to file her nails.
Craig said nothing, and proceeded to lead Maurice inside. Craig tied him up beside the dog.
“How about the other girl?” Miss Argust’s voice said. “Kali, was it?”
Craig went to the bins where flies buzzed angrily. He waved his hand over the bin to dispel them, and then reached into the refuse. He extracted one bread roll off the top – scuffed with dirt but otherwise fine, and another that the dog was currently chewing on. The dog looked up and turned his head to one side as if asking why it was taken from him. The final bun came from the bowels of the oven where bits of bread had coalesced.
“With Kali, we are much better informed,” Captain Timon said. “It appears she’s not nearly so far from here as her sister. She might well be under our very noses, or on the outskirts of the town. It won’t be long before we track her down.”
Craig dropped the rolls on the floor. He stood stock still a moment, immovable. The dog made a grab for a roll, but Craig kicked it out of reach before the dog could get to it.
“‘Track her down’?” Miss Argust said. “You make it sound like she’s on the run.”
“Quite,” the captain said.
Craig could hear the smile in his voice. It made him shiver.
He took the cakes over to the water barrel that sat in the corner, tossed them in and shook them off. He dried them on a dirty cloth, sat them on the table and set to cutting them into pieces, making sure to remove the most tainted parts. He put them on a small tray, took a deep breath and walked into the shop.
“Ah,” Miss Argust said. “Here come the cakes.”
Captain Timon reached into his pocket and came out with a small bag of coins. He reached into it and looked up at Miss Argust, as if waiting for her to say something. On cue, Miss Argust shook her head.
“Please,” she said, “let me feed the men and women who protect our kingdom’s honour. These are on the house.”
“Are you sure?” the captain said.
“Absolutely.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Captain Timon picked up a bun and bit into it. He closed his eyes and savoured the flavour.
“I can see why your cakes are the most celebrated in all of Time,” he said.
Miss Argust bowed graciously. Craig took the tray over to the constables standing by the door, and they took one piece each.
Craig heard the trickle of water, and then the rush a moment before time skipped. He was in the same position in the bakery holding the tray in one hand, but everything else had changed. Miss Argust was on the floor on her front, her legs kicking like Maurice the donkey. The two constables were on top of her, their knees in her back, and putting handcuffs on around her wrists. Miss Argust drooled on the floor, glaring up at the captain, who remained on his stool. And then time skipped back to the present.
The constables looked up from their buns at Miss Argust, who looked fearful.
“Well,” Captain Timon said, “that was unfortunate. At least we know you’re not going to be compliant. That saves us some time.”
With surprising agility, Miss Argust vaulted over the counter top and turned toward the back room. The constables at the door dropped their buns and chased after Miss Argust, who made it to the door, but was blocked by the male and female constables from outside. The constables fell on Miss Argust. They rolled her over onto her front and…
Time skipped again. They had her hands in handcuffs. Captain Timon still hadn’t moved from his stool. It took both constables to lift her up onto her feet and sit her on a stool facing the captain. Her hair was messy and she had a graze on one cheek.
“Why are you doing this?” Miss Argust said.
“I think we both know the
answer to that,” Captain Timon said.
Miss Argust frowned. Her eyes found the uneaten buns on Craig’s tray.
“They’re just buns,” she said. “They won’t harm you.”
“No, not the buns,” Captain Timon said, though he looked perplexed. “You’ve been passing on information to Kali Wythnos, haven’t you, Miss Argust?”
“What? I’ve never even met the girl!”
“We have it on good authority you have information of her whereabouts.”
“Then it’s not good authority because I don’t know where she is! I swear, if I knew you’d be the first to know.”
“Come now,” the captain said. “You can come clean.”
“I am coming clean! I’ve had no contact with her whatsoever.”
Captain Timon’s expression turned sour like there was a bad smell in the room.
“Very well,” the captain said, getting to his feet. “We shall do this the hard way.”
He turned to the constables holding her.
“Take her to the station,” he said.
Miss Argust’s tiny eyes bulged to a normal size. She struggled as the constables led her outside.
“No!” she said. “Please! I don’t know anything! I’m innocent! I’m innocent!”
The constables dragged Miss Argust out the door. Captain Timon got off his stool, the legs scraping along the floor, and put on his hat, letting his finger run along the lip. He saw Craig standing there, tray in hand. They were now alone in the bakery. The space felt close. The captain took another piece of cake from the tray. He smiled and touched the cap’s peak with his middle and index fingers and left.
Craig dropped the tray and moved to the back room. He stuffed his pockets full of the iced buns, collected his flat cap and coat from the wall and left the bakery by the back door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He stared with an intensity she had never witnessed in someone so young before. His eyes were big and wide, and so black they reminded her of a midnight ocean brushing against the shore. He had multi-coloured beads woven into his fuzz-like mane growing from his neck down his back, and all the way to his tail, which was short and stunted and tied with string into a ponytail. His long ears were pierced with studs and small rings. He hadn’t moved a muscle in twenty minutes.
Jera put her arm through the bars of her cage and clicked her fingers in front of the young centaur’s face.
“Do you think he’s asleep or something?” she said. “Horses do sleep standing up, don’t they? He doesn’t seem very responsive.”
“That’s because he’s never seen such a beautiful human before,” Elian said.
Jera snorted.
“Which is another way of saying he’s never seen a human before,” she said.
“That too.”
Elian shuffled across the prison cell, damp straw squishing beneath his feet. He came to a bamboo cane as thick as his arm, arranged at regular intervals around the cell, and knocked on it with his knuckles. They made a hollow thunk sound that died the moment he knocked.
Elian’s hat sat askew on his head. His shirt was torn and there was mud on his breeches. Despite the two week-old stubble on his chin, he was handsome, and his eyes shone like glowing chestnuts on an open fire. He moved to the next bar and tapped on it, listening to the tone it made. Jera ran a hand through her dirty hair.
“What are you doing?” she said.
Elian didn’t reply, and instead moved to the next bamboo cane and tapped on it. Jera shook her head and turned back to the foal centaur and caught a flicker of movement in his face.
“He moved!” she said. “You can stop pretending to be asleep now. I know you’re awake.”
But the foal didn’t move again.
“I’ll tell you what,” Jera said to the foal, sidling up close to the bamboo bars. “You let us out of here and I’ll take you to some yummy grass. How about that? It’ll be the most luscious juicy grass you’ve ever tasted, I swear. Well? What do you say?”
“You’re wasting your time,” Elian said.
“At least I’m trying.”
“Ineffectively.”
“Better than not trying.”
Elian shrugged his shoulders and tapped another bar.
“I think he understands me,” Jera said.
“He doesn’t understand you,” Elian said. “I don’t understand you. What chance has he got? He’s probably just wondering what we are. He’s probably never seen anything like us before.”
Jera turned back to the foal.
“Do you know what we are?” she said. “We’re humans. Can you say that? Hu-man.”
Again the foal stared with a blank expression. Jera studied the young centaur’s features, which were delicate and yet somehow strong. There was a nobility there, a pride as strong as anything she’d seen on a human face.
“They are beautiful though, aren’t they?” Jera said.
“Oh, yes. Gorgeous. Right up until they roast you alive and start nibbling at your ankles.”
“They don’t do that!”
“Anything powerful is revered by centaurs and eaten. By eating what they consider powerful they think they can absorb that power. We’re the most powerful thing around, so guess what?”
Elian nodded to the young centaur.
“He’s probably trying to decide which part of you to eat first,” he said. “The soft underarms or the even softer inner thighs.”
Jera screwed up her face.
“You’re foul,” she said.
“Unquestionably,” Elian said. “But am I wrong?”
“They don’t eat humans. They’re half horse. They can’t eat meat.”
“They’re also half human. I assure you, they can.”
“But look at them,” Jera said. “They live in these cute little huts. They can’t be cannibals.”
“You’re only a cannibal if you eat your own species,” Elian said. “We’re not centaurs. They’re always on the lookout for a passing stranger. Preferably someone with romantic ideas. She’d have softer meat. Especially one who’s highborn. Having not worked a day in your life you’re certain to be less stringy. Yes, I can safely say you’d be a delicacy in these parts.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jera said, folding her arms. “They won’t eat us.”
Just then, a procession passed before their cage. Elian and Jera shied away from the cage’s bamboo bars, and into the protection of the shade cast by the thick square slab of sun-dried clay. A dozen centaurs walked down the muddy street, passing the low-roofed thatched mud huts on either side of the road.
Two large centaurs with bones through their noses carried a long pole between them. Attached to it was a naked man hanging upside down, hands and feet tied together. His hair was frizzy and wild and he was covered in smudges of dirt. Upon seeing Elian and Jera his eyes went wide and he muffled unintelligible words around the apple jammed in his mouth. He was carried away, and the procession headed down the hill and out of sight. Jera turned bone white.
“You’re probably right,” Elian said, moving to another bamboo cane and tapping it. “I’m sure they’re just about to enter that man into a tickling competition.”
The largest centaur Jera had even seen came and stood next to the foal, which only reached up to his waist. The difference between a pony and a thoroughbred horse. His muscles were tight and well-defined. He had a long narrow scar across his chest that had discoloured the hair from black to chestnut brown. His eyes were fierce and intense. Jera looked away, the same way any human would in the presence of a dangerous animal, hoping it couldn’t see her. The centaur put his giant hand on the young calf’s head and turned. The calf turned with him, and led him away.
“That was the chief,” Elian said.
“How can you know?” Jera said.
“He’s the biggest and strongest, therefore he’s the chief. And if we don’t get out of here soon, it’ll be us chewing on a piece of fruit.”
“There has to be a w
ay out of here,” Jera said. “There has to be.”
“They’re not going to let you go by asking nicely,” Elian said, rapping on another bar.
“Sorry if I haven’t quite given up hope yet.”
“Haven’t you? Pleading with a creature who doesn’t understand you, and wouldn’t let you go even if it did?”
“You don’t know that. And there must be a creature here who speaks the common tongue.”
“It’s only common to you because everywhere you’ve been everyone has spoken it. There are some places where the common tongue isn’t half so common.”
Jera wrapped her arms around herself and peered out at the town through the bamboo canes. It was emptying, centaurs heading down the hill.
“Why are they doing this to us?” Jera said. “What did we ever do to them?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just wiped out half their population, depleted their food supply and murdered them any chance we got.”
“But what did we do to them?”
“Nothing. But there’s no telling them that. We’re humans and that’s grounds enough.”
A lone female centaur walked past their prison.
“Hey!” Jera said. “Excuse me!”
The female centaur paused and then turned to face Jera.
“Please be quiet,” Elian said. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“More than we already are?” Jera said. “I don’t think so.”
The female centaur wore vines that covered her breasts, and woven through her hair in an intricate pattern. Her hair was as long as the males’ but shinier and softer. Her facial features were slender and delicate, but her body was lithe and muscular. She had a deep frown on her face.
“Hello!” Jera said. “Fine evening, isn’t it?”
The female centaur glared back. She had multi-coloured handprints all over her body. Her tail swished to the side at imaginary flies.
“I think there’s been some mistake,” Jera said. “You see, I’m Jera Wythnos. I’m a wealthy merchant’s daughter and if you could find a way to set me free I’m sure we can find some way to recompense you sufficiently. What do you say?”
The centaur approached the cage. She glared down at Jera, who shied back a step.