A Dusk of Demons (6 page)

•  •  •

From Sheriff's to the mainland's tip was twenty-five miles, to our landfall twelve more. With the help of tide and wind we made good time and came into the bay late in the morning.

My notion of a port was the harbor at Sheriff's, where the
Hesperus
towered above the local dinghies and fishing smacks. I could see the
Hesperus
as we nosed in, but here she herself was dwarfed by a couple of ships three times her tonnage, and I saw more than half a dozen that matched her. Sheriff's town could have fitted inside this harbor, and above it an immensely bigger town stretched out. Immensely busier, too: with a slow-moving traffic of carts, carriages, horses, and pack donkeys.

Joe had brought us in near the seaward end of the quay. As he started to tie up, Paddy said, “You go on back, Joe. We'll be all right now.”

Her color had returned, and she spoke with her old authority. I was alarmed; it was unnerving to think
of being left in a strange country among strange people. The town was intimidating enough, but beyond, I knew, stretched a land where one might walk for days, or weeks, without glimpsing broad water.

Joe simply grinned. “How would I face Mother Ryan, if I did? Help me tie up, and we'll get started on finding them.” He scratched his beard. “Though how to set about it may take some thinking.”

No one seemed to have noticed us, and no one paid attention as we made our way along the quay. One of the cargo ships was preparing to leave; it had steam up though the gangplank was still out. A few sailors were engaged in last-minute bargaining with traders who offered sweetmeats, hot pies and muffins, and a variety of trinkets. They cried their wares in what might have been a foreign language for all I could make of it, but there was nothing exotic in their appearance. The sailors mostly had blue jerseys with bright neckbands and colored caps, but the traders all wore dull browns and grays.

Joe said quietly, “See along yonder?”

Through the press of people, I saw a barrier at the end of the quay. The bar itself was raised, but
two men in gray uniform with guns over their shoulders stood beside it.

“That's the checkpoint. They might ask questions.”

“And if they don't like the answers,” Paddy said, “they might not let us through?”

“Or maybe take us in for more questioning. As I said, they're a funny lot. It could be a notion not to catch their attention in the first place.”

I asked, “How?”

I didn't like the guns. Some in the islands had shotguns, but these looked different, more threatening.

Joe said, “We could dive in the harbor and swim past.” For a moment I thought he was serious. “Or maybe mix in with this lot coming along behind us.”

I heard the blast of a whistle and the rattle of a gangplank being hauled in. Looking back, I saw the traders moving away from the ship's side, pushing their handcarts.

“The guards'll be used to them,” Joe said. “If we mix in we should be able to slip through. Act natural, and don't look their way.”

As the traders came up, we went along with them. They were talking among themselves and ignored us. I did my best to do the same with the guards, but it wasn't easy, especially when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one start to unsling his gun. But he only rubbed his shoulder and slung it on the other side.

Joe said, in a low voice, “Nearly there. Steady as you go.”

Then the barrier was behind us and we had reached the end of the quay. Immediately in front a man pushed a cart loaded with pots, while his wife talked about buying fish for supper. A market was spread out along the front, the nearest stall heaped with shellfish: yellow whelks, white cockles, bright red crabs and lobsters.

“Better walk on a bit,” Joe said. “After that we'll see about getting our bearings.”

The man's hand was on Joe's shoulder before I noticed him. He was tall and black-moustached, dressed in brown tunic and trousers. The tunic had epaulettes, and he wore a peaked cap. Automatically Joe shrugged off the hand, and the two stared at
one another. The man's nose was sharp, between gray sunken eyes. In a bleak voice, he said, “You wouldn't be thinking of giving trouble, would you?”

I saw Joe's right hand clench, but he said nothing. A second man came in from the other side.

“Right, then,” the first said. “Come along, the three of you.”

•  •  •

The building to which we were taken overlooked the harbor. From the window I could see the cargo ship heading for the open sea. It looked like a good place to be. The room we were in was small, with gloomy green walls marked by damp stains, a ceiling that had darkened to grubby yellow, and a planked floor. There was a smell of dust and ink.

The man who had put his hand on Joe's shoulder sat behind a desk, looking through documents. Joe stood between Paddy and me, an arm behind each of us. Silence, broken only by the rustle of paper, pressed heavier as time crawled by. After interminable minutes the door opened and the second man appeared, accompanied by the soldiers from the quay. They still had their guns, and for a
pulse-stilling moment I wondered if this could be an execution squad.

The man behind the desk barked an order and they faced him at attention, thumbs pointing rigidly along the seams of their trousers. I noticed something which first relieved me, then alarmed me further: The hand of the soldier next to me was trembling.

“Troopers Growcott and Benton, Second Platoon, C company, Colonel Markham's brigade—correct?”

The soldier on the right braced himself. “Yes, sir!”

“Assigned to harbor duty, such duty to include checking all strangers seeking to enter the General's territory. About turn!” They spun around with a clomp of feet. “See these three?”

The one with the trembling hand didn't look much older than I was. His face was round and red, and he swallowed hard.

“These foreigners,” the man with the peaked cap said, “entered General Pengelly's territory during your period of duty, without challenge. Do you offer any excuse?”

“The traders were coming off. We didn't see—”

“No.” The voice was indifferent. “You didn't
see them. Perhaps your company commander will give you reason to be more observant. You are on report. Dismiss.”

They were marched out, a look of plain fear on the younger soldier's face, and he turned to us. “Names.”

“Joe Hardwick. And this is—”

“They can speak for themselves.” His finger pointed. “You.”

“Patricia Ryan.”

“And you, boy?”

“Ben,” I said.

“Ben what?”

It had always been simply Ben. At school I had been called Ben Ryan. I had known it was wrong—assumed I was an orphan—but had left it at that. Ben son-of-the-Master? I said, “Just Ben, sir.”

He shook his head impatiently but returned to Joe. “Place of origin?”

“The Western Isles.”

“All three of you?”

“Yes.”

He tapped a pencil on his desk, stretched back
in his chair, then got up and left the room. A key turned in the lock behind him.

At least we were on our own and could talk. I asked Joe, “What's going to happen?”

“Nothing much, I'd think. They may say we've got to go back. And as to that, once we're at sea we can go wherever we choose.”

“Those soldiers—”

“What of 'em?”

“He said they were on report. Does that mean they'll be punished for letting us through?”

“Maybe so.”

“What will they do to them?”

“I don't know, never having been a soldier nor wanted to be. Give 'em extra duties, perhaps.”

I did not believe it was a prospect of more duties that had made the young soldier tremble, and I didn't think Joe did either. And if their own men were so fearful, what might happen to those responsible for getting them into trouble?

Paddy said, “Do you think there's any chance of getting out of the window?”

We went to look. The window was sealed shut,
and breaking it wouldn't help. The building was as tall as Demons' laws allowed. We were directly under the roof, and the roof was an overhang.

Gazing at the harbor, Joe said, “The soldiers let us through. The lot who picked us up must be the police. But how did they come to be looking out for us? That's the funny part.”

Soldiers and police were mainland words. I was beginning to realize how different things might be here.

Joe went on, “One thing: It's the soldiers that have guns. The others don't, far as I can see. If he comes back on his own, I reckon I can handle him. It's worth a try. When I do, you two get going quick.”

“We'll tackle him with you,” Paddy said.

“You'd only get in the way. Do as I say.”

Paddy caught my eye behind his back, and I nodded agreement. But even if we overpowered the policeman without him managing to call for help, we still had to get clear of the building. I'd seen three or four policemen downstairs as we were brought in, but there were probably more. We would really be in trouble then.

Time dragged again. The window faced south, and a sun was slowly sinking against a screen of unbroken blue. The room was airless and stuffy. Occasionally we heard footsteps, but they did not stop.

Finally some did. A key turned, and the door started to open.

“Let him get inside,” Joe whispered. “And leave it to me!”

The policeman in the peaked cap appeared, to my surprise with a smile of a sort on his face. But that was nothing to my surprise at seeing the person who followed him. I ran toward Mother Ryan, but Paddy got there first.

•  •  •

The following morning Paddy and I sat under an oak tree at the top of a sloping meadow. Below us, a long way off, a narrow band of blue marked the sea. Higher up, surrounded by ornamental gardens on several levels, stood the villa of General Pengelly.

It was very big, with four wings branching out from a central courtyard where water gushed from the mouth of a huge bronze fish into a marble pool that swarmed with real fish, crimson and black and yellow.
The air thereabouts was full of song from birds in painted wicker cages, suspended from poles set among large red pots filled with glossy green plants.

In the room I had been given, the walls and even the bed were decorated with flowers. There were bright rugs on the floor, and a marble-topped washstand to which a serving girl had brought me a pitcher of hot water for washing. There were servants everywhere inside the house, and at least half a dozen men looking after the gardens.

Dinner had offered another taste of luxury. The most prominent item was a vast salmon on a long silver dish, but there had also been joints of beef, ham, pork, and venison, and a selection of side dishes offering treats I had never seen before. There had been a tempting array of puddings too; I sampled three before reaching saturation point.

I said to Paddy, “It's a bit different from what we expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Well, nothing like this. Did you?”

After a pause, Paddy said, “I'd like to know why.”

“Why what?”

“Why bring us here?”

“Because Mother asked, of course, after the police made their report to the General.”

“But why were she and Antonia here, in the first place?”

“Perhaps he was sorry for them being sent away from the Isles. They seem nice people.”

“You didn't think so yesterday.”

“That was a mistake. They didn't know who we were.”

“I asked Ralph about the soldiers: Would they still get into trouble for letting us through? And what would happen to them?”

“What did he say?”

“He said he didn't know. And he made a joke about the soldiers needing glasses if they couldn't spot an islander. He wanted to change the subject.”

“I like Ralph,” I said.

He was about twenty, tall and dark and athletic. He seemed to smile more than most of the people here, though as the General's only son he probably had more to smile about.

“So does Antonia.”

“Don't you?”

“He's probably all right.” She paused again. “I'd just like to know
why
we're being so well treated.”

“Does it matter?”

She did not answer, and I let it go. A lot had happened in the past week, nearly all unpleasant. I couldn't see the point in worrying about something pleasant. I lay back, closing my eyes, opening them when Paddy cried, “Joe!”

He came lumbering down the slope. “Mother Ryan said I'd find you somewhere around here, to bid farewell.”

“You're not going?” Paddy said.

“Have to. Things need seeing to on the island.”

I said, “There's no hurry. Andy's there.”

Joe laughed. “And that's a good reason for getting back!”

Paddy said, “By now Sheriff Wilson will know you helped us get away.”

“He might guess it.”

“You could get into trouble.”

“Guessing's one thing, proving's another. No one ever knows where my boat is or has been, and not
even the Sheriff will lay charges against a fisherman without solid evidence. I've good mates. I'll be all right, as well off there as here, certain sure.”

“It's better than you said,” I told him.

“You reckon?”

“They served a salmon at dinner last night which must have weighed thirty-three pounds. I reckon whoever landed it had a fight on his hands.”

Joe shook his head. “It didn't come out of the sea.”

“Sea or river, it would have taken some holding.”

“They grow 'em from fry, in reservoirs. One of the men was telling me.” His voice was scornful.

I said, “There's so much here, of everything.”

“For some. I had my supper with the servants, and we didn't have those sort of victuals. I'd better be on my way.”