The Curse of Salamander Street (27 page)

‘Then escape,’ Thomas said.

‘I don’t want to. This is a prison of my own making. Everyone here in Salamander Street would never want to leave. Our desires are fulfilled. Mine is the desire to hold gold coins in my hand, to count them one by one and never be able to spend them. That is pure joy –
Gaudium
!’ he exclaimed. ‘Galphus has his own vice. He could no more set Jacob Crane free than I ever could.’

‘Jacob is still here?’ Thomas asked.

‘He is closer than you think,’ Galphus said as the door to the parlour opened and three Druggles stepped into the hallway. In their hands they carried two sets of manacles. Galphus looked to Pallium and nodded in thanks.

‘Greatly appreciated,’ he said to the man as he handed him a vial of
Gaudium
.

‘I will kill you,’ Thomas said as the Druggle wrapped his wrists in the metal straps and twisted the bolt into the lock. ‘You promised me, Pallium.’

‘I promised you would see Jacob Crane, and that you will – immediately.

Kate didn’t even realise she was being restrained. She looked to Galphus like a begging dog, holding out her hands as her eyes followed the
Gaudium
into Pallium’s pocket.

‘For me?’ she asked him, her fingers trembling.

‘Not yet, my pretty girl, but there will soon come a time when you can have as much as you want and in return all you will give me is a breath.’

Pallium banged against the wall of the stairs and as he did the oak panel appeared to split in two and slide open. He took the lamp from the table and lit the way. The Druggles followed, then Kate and Thomas and finally Galphus.

The stone stairs slipped quickly below ground. The scent of the river ebbed through the sewer as a stiff breeze blew cobwebs about their heads.

‘See,’ Pallium said, ‘he hadn’t gone far at all.’ Pallium hammered upon a thick black door that blocked the passageway a yard from the stairs. It was a narrow place, just wide enough for a man to stand shoulder to shoulder with another.

Pallium turned the lock, opened the door and stepped inside. The cell was larger than they had thought. It was lined with dripping stone and at the far wall was a wooden bed. On each side of the door was an oil lamp that hung precariously from a wooden spittle-rod. They gave a bright light that found every corner of the room.

‘More guests,’ Galphus said as he pushed them inside.

It was then that Thomas saw Jacob Crane. He was manacled, crestfallen and bitter.

‘Keep your eyes from me,’ he said to Thomas. ‘Don’t look on a man cheated for greed.’

‘You sold us for pieces of silver,’ Thomas shouted at him. He lashed out at Crane with his feet.

A Druggle knocked him to the ground and held him in the stench with his black, red-laced boot.

‘I sold nothing – I saw you buried and dead, came looking for you. Galphus said you were in the grave – fell from a window. My only sin was believing he would save my ship.’

‘Very true, Jacob, very true,’ Galphus said, laughing to himself. ‘I enjoy to lie, it is far the most exciting thing to do. When you lie you have to remember what you have said and it is a great test for the memory.’

‘Crane speaks truth?’ Thomas asked.

‘What is truth?’ Galphus replied. ‘If you mean he presented the facts then it would be correct. He never sold you to me. I took you. Took you because I wanted to. It was Smutt who
fell from the tower – sent to fly by a Druggle – how exciting.’

‘Now you have us what will be done?’ Crane asked, all forlorn.

‘Your fate is not yet decided. I know a man who would like to see Thomas again and someone is on their way to take him to Whitby. You, my friend …’ Galphus sighed. ‘As for Kate, her fate is sealed with mine and she will stay. Tell me, Jacob. You’re a man who always has loved power. How does it feel for it now to be such vainglory? You have the rest of the day to consider. At nightfall we will come for Kate and then she will set out upon her journey.’

C
HILDREN? Names?’ Ergott complained as Barghast held him by the neck and pushed him back in his seat of the carriage. ‘I don’t know their names.’

‘Then how will you find them?’ Raphah asked as the coach rolled slowly on.

‘With the dowsing rod – what else?’ Ergott grumbled as he folded away the map and slid the wand back into his pocket. ‘I don’t need a name to find a child, all I need is something that belongs to them.’

‘Then who employed you?’ Lady Tanville asked.

‘A friend of my uncle’s. Is that such a crime?’ Ergott sank back into the smoke-stained leather and frowned. ‘I am a dowser, I care not for who employs me.’

‘And who would that be?’ Barghast asked.

‘A priest,’ Ergott said in a matter-of-fact way as he took the pipe from his pocket.

‘Demurral?’ asked Raphah.

‘Could be. The name seems familiar. I am not sure if I can remember.’

‘Then let me be a lightning bolt to your memory.’ Barghast
grizzled angrily. ‘Do you know where to look for the children?’

‘Why such an interest? It is as if you have a stake in my venture.’ Ergott lit his pipe to fumigate them from his presence.

‘And Bragg?’ Tanville asked.

‘He’s dead. You three saw to that and then covered your tracks. I would see a magistrate, were there one nearby, and have you all hanged. Capital offence – murder.’ Ergott was silent for a moment and looked at them as he blew purple smoke from the side of his mouth. ‘I was employed by Demurral and what of it? He asked me to find two urchins that had escaped his care. I had to bring them to Whitby and I would be paid. He said they were in the hands of a villain called Jacob Crane. Is that so important?’

‘We are satisfied by what you said,’ Tanville said in a serene voice. ‘We thought that you were a changeling and the one who killed Mister Shrume. Your answer was good enough for us not to believe that any more.’

Lady Tanville nodded as she spoke and smiled politely as the carriage rocked from side to side. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the gathering that lasted for several miles.

‘Beadle drives well,’ Ergott said eventually to break the silence. No one replied. ‘London will be soon, within the hour at least,’ he said again, hoping to illicit an answer.

‘At least,’ said Lady Tanville as the carriage slowed upon the hill.

Beadle drove on. The light of dawn breaking upon the Hampstead trees and the road that led across the heath. Ahead was the city that tugged upon the Great North Road, pulling them on. London came suddenly. Fields gave way to houses that soon surrounded one another. Already the streets were full of people making their way to the city. From east and west, those who had fled the sky-quake were returning slowly. Many pushed their handcarts filled with all they had, others drove
carriages piled high with mattresses, vagabonds and crying children.

Beadle had never seen anything like this before. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he pulled the horses on a closer rein. They knew the journey and needed no encouragement. For the first time he could see the battered dome of St Paul’s, reaching to the sky like a broken egg. Far away, small fires spiralled columns of smoke into the cold morning air. Above the Thames a November mist clung to the water margin. Beadle began to sing tunelessly. He quickly forgot the night. The sight of Demurral faded, somehow the day brought no fear.

Beadle allowed the horses to lead them on. He sat, wrapped in the coachman’s blanket, and wondered about his fate. Upon the mile, Raphah would call up to him as he asked his welfare. Each shared hope. In the morning light there was a hint of bitterness. Beadle didn’t want the journey to end. As the coach trundled down the Hampstead road, London lay before him. It was like he was journeying into a new world and all would be well.

Eventually, as they drove through beaten streets of Camden and then Holborn, the horses stopped where they had always stopped. Beadle looked up at a cold grey building, its walls drab and scarred. The front of the coaching inn was peppered with marks from the comet and its torn thatch hung like an old hayrick. No one came to greet them. All was quiet; the street was empty but for the horse dung and several rogues who drank on the steps of the demolished church opposite the inn.

Beadle jumped from the driving plate and opened the carriage door. About his shoulders he had the coachman’s jacket. Three sizes too big, it hung like a sack. He didn’t care – everyone could see that he had driven the coach. In due course a small woman peered around the door and looked at him suspiciously. She flaked the paint from the wood with her long fingers
All Beadle could see was her one staring eye. The other was covered in a black patch strapped to her head so tightly that it looked like a ridge in her skin. She didn’t speak but examined each of them intently, as if she knew why they had arrived.

Reluctantly she opened the door and gestured for Beadle to step closer. Beadle walked towards her as the others in the carriage watched.

‘Where’s Mister Gervais?’ she asked.

‘Left me in charge. He had urgent business elsewhere,’ Beadle said proudly as he pulled the man’s coat about his shoulders.

‘Better come in, and bring them with you,’ she said, and nodded to someone inside. Raphah and the others stepped from the coach. The inn door opened fully and a young boy ran to the carriage and led the horses through a narrow gateway at the side.

Ergott clutched his bag as his wand danced in his pocket. Barghast and Lady Tanville followed him inside as Raphah looked down the road to a small park surrounded by tall iron railings.

‘Thought they’d be more than this. How can I make a living with just you three? No one here but you, the entire place to yourself,’ she said to Ergott as he stood dumbfounded and she picked her nose.

‘Times are difficult, since the coming of the comet,’ Barghast tried to answer before she stormed on.

‘Don’t mention that to me. Madness everywhere. Just look at that dog, quiet as a mouse and then when the moon comes out, becomes like a madman.’ The woman pointed to a small terrier in the corner of the room and then called it to her. ‘Ziggie, come here.’ The dog looked at her from its place by the fire and grunted to itself. ‘Ziggie …’ The dog didn’t move but rolled over by the fire and roasted its belly.

‘Well behaved,’ Ergott joked as he sat in a dusty chair by the narrow wooden stairway that led from the dark hall to a darker landing.

Ziggie looked at him and sniffed. The hackles on the back of its neck stood rigid. It bared its teeth and gave a guttural growl.

‘You have made a friend,’ Barghast teased as the dog spun to its feet and began to bark.

‘That I have,’ he said as he stood and looked at the woman. ‘I take it I have a bed and a room of my own?’

‘You sleep by the fire,’ she said to Beadle. ‘You come with me,’ the woman grunted to the others as she walked up the stairs to a landing of rooms above. As they turned the corner to the stairs they saw a gallery of rooms that looked down upon the hall. Set in a frame of oak panels were several doors. She opened one door after another, not giving any sign as to who should sleep in each. Finally she looked at Raphah.

‘Do you sleep in a bed?’ she asked.

‘I sleep wherever you would like me to,’ he replied.

‘The street is a fine place, but then you wouldn’t pay me.’ She looked at him as he smiled at her. In his heart he wanted to laugh at her foolishness. ‘Do you mind him sleeping here?’ she asked Barghast.

‘In fact I would suggest he shares my room,’ he said. ‘I have three beds and a fire and we wouldn’t want to overburden you with work.’

The woman nodded and looked at Barghast as if he were demented. She pulled up her corset and ruffled her skirt as she wiped her hand under her sweated arms.

‘Suggest you open the window,’ she said as a borborygmic convulsion rumbled in her guts. With that, she left them alone and disappeared down the stairs to appease her barking dog and find Beadle.

Ergott quickly shut the door to his room without speaking.
The bolt was slid swiftly and the mortise double-locked.

‘He needs to be guarded. I suspect he knows the way to Salamander Street,’ Barghast whispered. ‘I will take the first watch. We must keep him near at all times. Be ready, both of you.’

Raphah slept for the hour as Barghast watched through the narrow opening of the door. He could hear Beadle chuntering to himself by the fire. Every so often the dog would moan as if bored by what he said. Ergott’s room was silent. The morning came and went and the afternoon faded and darkness fell as Barghast waited. Several cases were delivered one by one to Lady Tanville by a tawdry youth who looked as if he would die mounting the stairs. By the time the evening came, Barghast like all the others had begun to doze. He sat in the chair propped against the wall and rested his head upon his arm. The journey had taken life from them all. In the hallway below, Barghast could hear the sound of Beadle snoring.

On the landing there was a sudden clink of metal as a latch dropped. Like a waiting fox, Barghast was woken from his dreaming. He listened intently as a booted footstep clattered against the board. Raphah woke without being called and stared at the door. Barghast motioned for him to be silent as he kept watch. The footsteps came closer. Barghast could see the shadow of a man cast black in the lamplight, the long coat and booted legs spread across the floor. The man came closer. Through the crack in the door, Barghast could just make him out as he looked over the landing to the hallway below. Raphah sneaked across the room and peered over his shoulder as together they watched the shadow get closer.

A small-framed man in a frock coat and clean riding boots sauntered slowly along the landing. They could neither make out a single feature nor see his face. It was only when he got to the door of their room that the figure turned to face them, and then Raphah recognised who it was.

Tanville Chilnam had cropped her hair, discarded her ladies’ travelling clothes and dressed as a man. She wore the attire of a country squire: yellow waistcoat, silk tie and canvas pants. As she turned she tapped gently upon the door.

‘Surprised?’ she asked in a whisper as she pushed the door open and went in. ‘Thought I would dress for the occasion, now I’m in London I don’t have to be so … provincial.’

Raphah didn’t speak. He signalled for her to sit by the fire as they waited for Ergott.

The wait was quickly over. In the hallway below, an old clock chimed nine of the clock. It rattled with each note as the spring recoiled and clattered against the case. Beadle chuntered in his sleep. The dog gave a sudden yelp as if woken from a dream of chasing rats. The door to Ergott’s room opened.

Ergott stalked along the corridor, arms outstretched, diving rod in hand. It bobbed and danced in his fingers as if it had a life of its own, and Ergott obediently followed. He gave no notice to the narrow opening of the door to Barghast’s room. His mind was focused on the dowser in his hand. The wand led him onwards as if it were a hound that pursued its prey in the dark of the night.

Ergott scurried down the stairs, jumping them three at a time, and skipped across the hall.

‘The chase is on,’ Barghast said as he and Raphah sprang to their feet and dashed along the landing, with Tanville running behind. ‘When we get to the streets, keep to the shadows. I will go ahead – he won’t see me.’

As they watched Ergott run across the hall, all that clothed him began to disappear. Thick black fur sprung from his shoulders, and what were once hands became black paws. He fell to the floor by the fireplace and writhed in agony. Beadle woke from his sleep. The dog began to bark frantically as the man contorted before him. Ergott screamed as if in severe pain.

‘Blatherskite!’ Beadle exclaimed as the sight of the transformation sent him and the dog hiding in the shadows.

The changing Ergott looked up, his face contorted. He growled as he breathed, seething painfully. The transformation from man to beast was quickly over. The wand vanished from sight.

Beadle hid behind a large potted plant, not daring to step from the shadows. Then the scullery door creaked open and there was a shriek and a scream as the hosteller saw the lion by the fire. She raised her hand to her face and fell backwards, panting like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

‘
Slabberdegullion!
’ she shrieked, as if it were the last word she would ever say. With much ceremony she fainted: she twisted on her heels, spun several times and then crashed to the floor in a fat heap.

Ergott growled loudly and leapt towards the door. He smashed against the wood as the door came open and he slithered into the street, vanishing in the darkness. The front door slammed behind him.

Raphah and Tanville followed quickly. ‘See to her, Beadle,’ Raphah said as they left the inn for the cold of the night. Once outside, they caught a fleeting glimpse of the creature running in the shadows that fell from the eaves of the broken houses.

They set off on the chase, keeping to the shadows. Ahead they could hear Ergott growling as he ran back and forth through the empty streets. Somewhere nearby was Barghast, hunting the creature as he ran through the shadows.