ISOF (8 page)

Ben glanced at Pinchkin as was amazed to see her looking angry. She desperately tried to hide her annoyance but failed miserably.

‘She shouldn't be out and about,' grumbled Pinchkin. ‘She's not well enough, hardly recovered, needs rest,' she added cryptically.

Cedric held his breath for a moment. Looking furiously at Pinchkin, he pointed a bony finger.

‘If I find out you know something about this mess,' he said threateningly. Any other remarks, Cedric might have made, were cut short by Ben.

‘That's it,' he exploded. ‘I've had enough of being treated like an idiot. It's about time someone explained to me exactly what's going on out there.' Ben looked around the room and was annoyed to see Trep, Mak and Noj, each with a hand clasped over their mouths trying vainly to subdue bubbles of laughter. Ben clenched his teeth.

‘What?' he demanded. ‘What's going on out there?' he asked, pointing to the noisy commotion still audible outside the door.

His question only caused a further outbreak of laughter, and even Pinchkin allowed a small chuckle to escape from her mouth.

‘Over the last few months,' she began to explain. ‘Bits of graffiti have started to appear in public places. It's the same every time, just two words: “
Fish-head”
. Last month, when a plaque was unveiled in the centre of the village to honour the ancient leader of the Jaresh: ‘Scallywar', someone had daubed ‘
Fish-Head'
all over it.' Pinchkin gave a little cough to disguise a chuckle. ‘The Jaresh were livid, even Lord Tolc was shocked at the vandalism. Although he did admit later that it wasn't so much vandalism as bravery, but he couldn't say that in public.'

While Pinchkin was speaking, Ben noticed the door open slightly and saw a brief flash, almost like shadow, flicker across the room and disappear behind a large tapestry that hung from the wall. He quickly looked around the room, but nobody seemed to have noticed the shadow or the tapestry that had momentarily shivered as something passed behind it. Ben screwed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them to see everyone looking at him with a bemused expression. Pinchkin smiled, winked at Ben and continued with her tale.

‘Well,' she said. ‘Since then, bits of graffiti have appeared all over the place. It's too much to be the work of one person, but the Jaresh aren't bothered who started it, they just want to capture someone and make an example of them.'

There was no more laughter. A few seconds silence filled the room only to be broken as Cedric performed his usual cough as his eyebrows began to dance and he waved towards the tapestry.

‘I think that it's time we made a move,' he said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Follow me,' he instructed them. ‘That is unless you want to explain your presence here to the Jaresh.' Ignoring any comments or questions, Cedric turned on his heels and strode across the room, his long robes causing a flurry of dust to rise from the floor. When he reached the tapestry, he gave it a gentle tug, and disappeared.

Pinchkin wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and beckoned the others to follow. Within seconds the room echoed to the sound of silence. The only evidence that anyone had been in the room was the fading warmth of the chair seats.

Behind the tapestry, six figures crept along a narrow passageway. Ben had no idea where they were going. The darkness and creeping dank smell that filled the tunnel reminded him of his recent experience of being locked away in the cell. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought. Keeping his hand on the back of the person in front of him and being pushed by a hand from behind, he shuffled along in the cloying blackness, his feet tracing the uneven surface beneath them.

After what seemed like an eternity, the darkness lost density as cool air rippled across Ben's face. Gradually, the group emerged into a narrow alley filled with overflowing dustbins and the remains of old wooden crates. The stench from the dustbins was overpowering as everyone quickly pulled whatever piece of cloth they could find in their pockets to place against their nose.

Pinchkin, the last member of the group to emerge, pushed one of the rubbish-filled dustbins against the wall, covering their exit from the passageway. Wiping her hands together, she quickly looked around to check that everyone was present who should be. With a small shake of her head, she indicated to the group to remain silent, her eyes examining the shadows for anything out of the ordinary. While Pinchkin peered around the alleyway, the group cautiously moved closer together, forming a huddle of comfort. Cedric lifted his hand and was just about to say something when one of the shadows moved. Ben felt his chest tighten and his breathing dwindled to a faint whisper. Nobody moved. Cedric, his hand still hovering in the air, swallowed noisily.

‘Ssssh!' hissed everyone.

Cedric narrowed his eyes in annoyance but did as he was told and kept quiet. The group remained huddled together, their clothes merging into one large, ragged bundle. Along with the others, Ben watched the shadows. First one shadow seemed to shimmer then another flickered momentarily, while others seemed to fluctuate between different shades of grey. The more that Ben stared the more his imagination ran riot. Ghoulish images appeared to take shape, twisting and turning before disappearing to be replaced by other forms morphing into fear. Ben could hear someone's teeth chattering and he knew it was nothing to do with the temperature. After a few moments, Pinchkin seemed to get impatient. She pulled her cloak tightly around her body and made a clicking sound with her tongue.

‘Telu!' she snapped. ‘Enough of this nonsense, out you come my girl, now!'

A shadow peeled away from the wall nearest to Ben. Jumping back in fright, he stood on Mak's foot, causing a loud squawk of pain to echo around the alleyway. Ben's sudden movement combined with Mak's squawk caused panic amongst the rest of the group with Trep trying to run in several directions as Noj's arms flailed about in an attempt to catch Trep. Ben, who by now was beginning to wish he hadn't got out of bed that morning, simply stood still. He didn't know what else to do other than allow his mouth to silently open and close slowly, in a similar manner to the fish he often watched on a Saturday afternoon in his Dad's shop. Meanwhile, Cedric tried to make himself invisible by hiding behind Pinchkin, who merely stood patiently, her hands perched on her waist.

As events unfolded in the alleyway, a small, black-cloaked figure slid passed the group pausing briefly to flash a pair of bright blue eyes at Ben. With his mouth still gaping, he didn't give the brief glimpse of blue sparkles a second thought as it merged with all the other imagined images in his mind.

The mysterious figure sidled up to Pinchkin and whispered something in her ear. Pinchkin nodded, and the figure turned to the rest of the group, beckoning them to follow as it scurried down the alley. Thankful to be doing something other than creating panic in a confined space, the group obediently followed.

After passing row upon row of dustbins, whose contents delighted in getting under the feet of unsuspecting travellers, the group came to an abrupt halt outside of an old weather-beaten oak door. Pinchkin gave a forgiving smile as Ben and the three youths failed to notice the sudden lack of movement ahead and collided with her ample figure. After a few muttered apologies, Ben and the youths looked beyond Pinchkin and surveyed the buildings that towered above them.

Timber and brick walls seemed to embrace the group. The cluster of buildings seemed to rise out of the ground and head straight for the stars. Craning their necks, the group could just about see a small circle of night sky high above the rooftops. Looking around, Ben had trouble spotting where they'd emerged into this motley collection of architecture, as each of the buildings seemed to lean against each other with no visible gaps between them. Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was all getting out of hand. Opening his eyes, half hoping that this ordeal would evaporate into the night, he saw Pinchkin standing on a stone step that lay before the oak door. The door rested uneasily against its frame as timeworn hinges waited nervously for any attempt to make them move from their comfortable position.

An unusual smell wafted through the night air. Different to the stomach turning odour from the dustbins, that reeked of vegetable matter and undigested slurry, this was homely, comforting, the aroma of baked apple pies and roasting meat. The group, quickly forgetting their earlier panic-stricken embarrassment, sucked in the delicious aromas through their collective nostrils. Pinchkin pushed open the oak door, much to the annoyance of the hinges, and impatiently waved the rest of the group through.

Once through the door a myriad aromas almost overpowered the group. They found themselves in a large room that was divided into lots of smaller compartments by ornate wooden partitions. Within each smaller compartment sat a large table surrounded on three sides by stout wooden benches. Most of the benches seemed occupied by a variety of characters, each drinking from intricately patterned mugs and taking enormous mouthfuls of steaming apple pie. Strands of music competed with the noise of occupied mouths and contented stomachs.

A small hooded figure stood in an aisle tapping its foot impatiently.

‘Come on, for goodness sake,' hissed the figure angrily. ‘We haven't got all day to stand around like a bunch of vacant eyed fish-heads.'

Before anyone could decide where to move to, a large jovial man approached the group. His waist was covered with a white apron, which strained to keep the vast expanse of waistline under cover. Above the apron hung a once white shirt but which now advertised a selection of stains from the menu. Balanced on top of the shirt sat a round pink face underlined by a bushy grey beard. He stood before the group with his arms wide in greeting.

‘Welcome, welcome to our humble house for eating.' Indicating one of the small compartments, the bushy grey beard continued. ‘Please to be seated and I'll be getting for you some foods and drinks.'

The group hesitated for a moment until Cedric, seduced by the tempting aromas assailing his senses, began to shepherd them towards the benches. Sitting on the edge of their seats, they looked around apprehensively, unsure what to do next. Cedric broke the nervous silence.

‘I'm sorry for the somewhat undignified journey here. However, needs must and I was afraid any delay on my part would have endangered our plans.'

Before anyone could speak, bushy grey beard returned, arms laden with plates of steaming apple pie with custard, lava-like cascading over the sumptuous pastry crust.

The beard beamed with delight. ‘Please to be eating while I be getting you drinks. Thanking you.' He trotted off, occasionally nodding at a familiar face or pausing to respond to a comment made by a satisfied customer.

All apprehension and nerves were forgotten as the group attacked their food. Spoons and forks dug through the pastry to release plumes of apple-scented steam. Hands waved in front of mouths as piping hot apple scalded tongues and throats complained at the heat. Ben's first fork-full of pie erupted in his mouth with an intensity that left him breathless. Once he'd resumed his normal rate of breathing and wiped the tears from his eyes, Ben gave voice to his feelings.

‘Cool!' he breathed, his eyes half closed with pleasure.

The rest of the group exchanged quizzical glances and shrugged their shoulders at the strange comment. Ben ignored them.

‘I've never tasted an apple pie like this before. It's fantastic. Really cool.'

Pinchkin slammed her fork on the table.

‘Pah! You've tasted nothing yet boy,' she said. ‘This is nothing more than padding for uneducated palates. Why, compared to my pies these, these,' she pointed at the now empty plates around her, ‘whatever they call these lumps of pureed garbage, are nothing more than cattle fodder.'

Cedric performed his polite cough and pointed at Pinchkin's empty plate.

‘I take it you didn't like the pie?' he asked with a broad grin.

Pinchkin fussed about with her cutlery for a moment and then cleared her throat with an embarrassed cough.

‘I haven't introduced our little guide yet have I?' she said to the group, hoping to discourage any further enquiries about her eating habits. The distraction seemed to work as Ben and the youths turned to their unknown companion, eager to discover who the stranger could be. Cedric simply relaxed against the bench and smiled.

‘I would like to introduce, Telu,' said Pinchkin, with a frown creasing her forehead. ‘It is her handiwork which caused such a stir in the great hall.'

Telu slipped the hood from her cloak from her face to display an abundance of such golden, curly-hair that, even in the dim lighting of the eating house, any flicker of passing light magnified its brilliance. Telu smiled at the group, her delicate features displaying a mischievous glow.

Pinchkin let out a deep sigh. ‘That escapade of yours in the Great Hall was foolish,' she said, frowning at Telu. ‘Quite apart from the fact that you shouldn't be out and about yet, you've caused a lot of people to get hurt, not to mention a few Goferats who won't go for anything again!'

Ben tried not to laugh at Pinchkin's words. Telu gave him a warning shake of the head as she leaned forward to speak to the whole group.

‘I'm sorry if my actions caused you any unnecessary concern,' she said without a hint of regret. ‘It was essential that you left the building unobserved. My little diversion gave the guards something else to occupy their tiny minds rather than look to you for any additions to their bracelets.' Telu folded her arms and licked the remaining crumbs from her lips. She smiled at Ben causing his cheeks to turn a delicate shade of pink.

Pinchkin beckoned the group to draw close to her. ‘Before Ben's face burns brighter than a furnace,' she said frowning at Telu with mock severity. ‘It is nearly time for us to be on our way. But,' she added reaching inside her cloak, ‘there is one more thing.' Fetching out an old leather-bound book, at that looked as if it had seen more days than the sun, Pinchkin placed it on the table, and gently stroked the rough, time-patterned surface of the book. The various marks, scratches and grazes on the leather appeared almost to be intentional, as if someone had crudely etched a series of motifs onto the surface. As each of the group gazed upon the book the surface seemed to make almost imperceptible movements that altered and reformed into increasingly complex pictures.

Ben rubbed his eyes, not quite believing what he thought he saw. Telu, smiling at Ben's obvious disbelief, allowed her eyes to follow the graceful undulations that gently rippled the leather surface.

‘That's absolutely wonderful,' she said with a brief glance at the others. ‘Just as you begin to appreciate a pattern that's forming, it slowly dissolves into another image.' She paused as the latest pattern outlined tiny waves, which gently lapped at the edges of the book. ‘Beautiful,' murmured Telu, her breath appearing to cause another ripple in the waves.

‘Truly remarkable,' agreed Noj, his eyes too absorbing the ever-changing patterns on the book. ‘Just for a moment I thought I saw my Grandparent's garden with the tiny gate leading into the walled garden.'

‘And I saw the cove where I used to play as a child,' grinned Telu. ‘Where the sun shone all day whilst the waves gently tugged at the sand beneath my feet.'

Trep quietly clapped his hands together. ‘Well,' he said, thankful that now nobody could accuse him of imagining things. ‘I'm certain I could see a nimbostratus cloud formation and…' he glanced up at the vacant expressions around him. ‘Rain cloud,' he said begrudgingly.

Pinchkin gave a sad little nod of her head. ‘A portent of things to come,' she said, to which twitching eyebrows were added to the vacant expressions.

Mak looked across at Ben. ‘So, what do you see?' he asked with a slight sneer. Ben gave a little shrug.

‘I was going to say I could see a picture of a little fish but…' A burst of stifled laughter interrupted him. Pinchkin's eyes gave the rest of the group a severe warning.

‘Anything else, Ben?' she asked with an encouraging smile.

‘It doesn't matter', he answered angrily. Feeling annoyed with everything and everybody, Ben distracted himself by studying the book in front of him.

The book appeared to be about the size of an ordinary paperback book. Ben was amazed at how rough and ragged the surface appeared at first glance, but no matter how hard he examined the book, he couldn't see any obvious scratches or tears in the surface. Leaning closer to the book, Ben examined the rough piece of string that served as a clasp to hold the book closed. As his nose got closer to the book, he was suddenly aware of an odd smell. At first he wasn't sure whether the odour came from the book or someone close by. He lowered his nose even further towards the book and was given a noxious welcome.

‘Struth!' he exclaimed, jerking his nose away from the book, ‘it's an old goat!'

Several heads turned at the outburst. Concerned with all the unwanted attention, Pinchkin playfully smacked Ben's hand.

‘That's no way to refer to Cedric,' she chided, quickly pressing a finger to Cedric's lips as he began to protest. ‘Only teasing,' she said slowly removing her finger. Cedric sat back in his seat and folded his long arms around his body. It was obvious to everyone that he was far from happy with Pinchkin's humour. Fully aware that Cedric was in a huff, Pinchkin nudged the book towards Ben.

‘A little gift for you,' she said, her hand lingering on the book. ‘Guard it well because it will prove invaluable.'

Ben shook his head.

‘I'm not carrying that around,' he said angrily. ‘No way.'

Pushing the book even further towards him, Pinchkin looked directly into his eyes.

‘It contains a reference to many things and,' she winked, ‘some that might come in handy when you least expect them to.'

‘I haven't time to read,' flushed an angered Ben.

‘Pah!' spat Mak, making a grab for the book. ‘I won't ask how you're so familiar with the smell of an old goat.' Anything more that Mak might have wanted to say was suddenly stifled by four of his fingers making a forced entry into his mouth. ‘Aargh!' he grunted through the mass of pained flesh.

‘Oh goodness,' exclaimed Pinchkin. ‘I'm so sorry, I should have said, but the book can only be held and read by those it has chosen.'

‘Now you tell me,' grunted Mak, his eyes beginning to moisten.

‘Well,' replied Pinchkin defensively. ‘I wasn't expecting anyone to perform a snatch and grab so quickly.'

‘So, who can touch it?' asked Noj trying to take the sting out of the situation if not from Mak's fingers.

‘Well,' began Pinchkin. ‘That's difficult to say with any certainty. At times, the book seems incapable of making up its mind.'

‘Obviously a book written by a female author,' grinned Ben.

‘I'd be careful what you say young, man,' said Pinchkin sternly. ‘It appears that you are developing the male trait for speaking before thinking somewhat prematurely.'

‘So,' asked Telu, conscious of Ben's embarrassment. ‘How are we supposed to know if we can hold the book safely, even if I am a woman?' she said grinning at Ben.

‘You don't,' replied Pinchkin.

‘What?' exclaimed Trep. ‘You mean…'

‘I'm definitely not touching the daft book again,' snapped Mak, still sucking at the little beads of blood forming on his pricked fingers.

‘All I can tell you,' answered Pinchkin to the question on the group's faces. ‘Is that if someone attempts to hold the book who hasn't been chosen, the braided rope that acts as a clasp becomes a vicious briar, pricking even the toughest of skin.'

Leaning forward to examine the book closely, Telu suddenly wrinkled her nose.

‘Ben's right,' she said moving her face away from the book. ‘It stinks.'

‘It might have picked up a few odours,' replied Pinchkin coldly. ‘But then so would you if you'd been read as often as this book has.' Aware of the reaction to her words, Pinchkin reached out and took hold of Mak's hand she brushed her lips against his ear. ‘Your tears for now,' she whispered. ‘But if you choose what is before you then it will be the tears of others to follow.'

Mak refused to let go of Pinchkin's hands, his eyes pleading for an explanation to her words. A sad smile flickered on her lips as she gently shook her head. Turning to the rest of the group, she took a deep breath and nodded towards the book.

‘You have a long journey in front of you. This book will help you during your travels. Precisely how useful it will be and what it might do will become clear as the days pass … hopefully,' she added in a half whisper.

Ben moved his hand cautiously towards the book, his fingers barely making contact with its edges. Pinchkin nodded.

‘Yes, Ben,' she said encouragingly. ‘It won't harm you, I don't think. But,' she warned. ‘Should anyone else try to hold the book … well, don't forget.'

Ben rubbed his hand across his eyes. He felt extremely tired and wasn't sure he wanted to know anything. It seemed that the more clues he uncovered the more complicated the absurd game became. He leaned back against the bench and sighed.

‘Why me?' he asked with a slight shake of the head.

Pinchkin looked at him, her eyes a picture of patience.

‘Because,' she replied, her head cocked to one side.

‘Because what?' cried Ben, waving his hands in exasperation.

‘Because,' began Pinchkin calmly. ‘The book seems to have chosen you to look after it and that's that,' she said, folding her arms defiantly. Ben frowned and nodded towards Pinchkin.

‘If it's that important,' he said. ‘Why don't you take it?'

‘Because,' retorted Pinchkin with a grin.

Ben leaned back again and closed his eyes. ‘Whatever,' he said, waving his hand dismissively. Pinchkin grabbed his hand and jerked him forward.

‘Because,' she said firmly, keeping hold of Ben's hand. ‘If I go people will miss me, and start asking questions. Besides,' she continued, ‘there's work to be done here and done properly.' She winked at Ben. ‘Unlike somebody I could mention who does half a job and hopes no-one will notice.'

Ben's mouth gaped open. How on earth could she have known about his half-hearted cleaning attempts with the fish tanks? He closed his eyes in disbelief. ‘I suppose,' he said, feeling resigned to whatever lay before him. ‘That there's no way around this is there, and to get to the next level I've got to solve all of the clues here?'