Monstrous Races (7 page)

‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘she said that if I didn’t take my orders and come back to the Dogheadhood that day she’d have my guts for garters. She said it wasn’t a figure of speech. There was an agreement with the Blemmyae Council that all charges would be dropped if I went back with her and agreed to stay for two years. That was six
years ago,
and I’ve only come back because of all this,’ he added
wistfully
, gesturing towards her.

‘I never knew she did that kind of work. Of going into cellars I mean, and working with
criminals,’
she said, whispering the word as though it would bring the
gendarme
sprinting over.

‘Well, I was a special case,’ he said breezily. ‘I was the idiot who tried to pick her pocket.’

Lord and Lady Lansdown rode up to the Dogheadhood, her white scarf flowing in the breeze. Course grey hairs peered out from her hairline, and a rust colour was seeping further along her scarf as though trying to run away from her head. She gripped the reins tightly, her dull green dress secured around her legs. ‘He’s not too bad,’ she said, wrestling with the reins. ‘Not quite as distinguished as George but he does try hard.’

‘He cut off inches, inches!’ cried Lord Lansdown, grasping his wispy beard with
one hand. ‘That’s not a
point, it’s a straight line across. He doesn’t listen to instruction.’

‘But he’ll learn with time,’ she said smoothly, turning around to look at the muscular, handsome soldier who was now their private servant. He nodded politely and Lady Lansdown winked at him before turning around and facing her husband. ‘Of course, he’ll dye my hair next. I’ll have to make sure he spends a long time getting it exactly right.’ The servant turned his head slowly to look at the men of his group, who were blowing him kisses and waving flirtatiously. He hung his head and stared downwards.

‘This is it,’ said Lord Lansdown decisively. ‘The Dogheadhood. The villagers say she is here.' Lady Lansdown pulled a face beneath her headscarf. ‘Of course she’s not here now,’ he continued, ‘the stone is not glowing brightly enough. Let’s see what these
creatures
have to say for themselves.' They rode towards the gates confidently, their men followi
ng behind them. ‘Stop,’ he shouted
as they reached the door, and waved his right arm in the air to signal his message. He got down from his horse (gracelessly she thought) and walked towards the piece of parchment that was flapping in the breeze and that had been attached to the thick doors.

‘To
whomever
this may concern
,’ he read. ‘
We a
ssume that you a
re searching for the stone, and
that the villagers who have their own grievances have told you the whereabouts of the girl in question. We also assume that you have reached this door and have found that the stone in your possession is showing no significant change, and therefore that you realise that it is no longer here.

We ask that you go in peace; we do not have the stone or the girl in our care, nor do we know in which direction each may be headed. We have anticipated that you may not believe us, and so we have decided to leave our home and travel elsewhere. We ask that you recognise that this is a place of worship and reverence, and that you and your company do not trespass upon it.

He pushed at the door and heard it whine and creak as it opened very slightly into the huge courtyard. He walked back to his wife and showed her the parchment.

‘Clever,’ she said, ‘and it’s open so that we don’t cause damage. We’ll send some
men in to check it’s safe, then follow them.’

‘Oh no,’ he replied, shaking his head, ‘I’ll go in with them. Nothing will harm me,’ he muttered, his eyes sparkling and the stone warm against his chest. Lady Lansdown nodded mutely and watched him signal for ten men to join him at the front. Four got down from their horses and walked towards the heavy door, pushing it with all their strength until they could just pass through the gap. They disappeared inside
and moments later the door was
open, the pulley system clanking as it worked to let them in.

Lord
Lansdown
walked inside and the six other men walked with him, their swords and clubs raised before them. He looked around at the lushly growing vegetables and fruits in the middle of the large courtyard, and at the labyrinthine corridors that surrounded it. The autumn sun played upon the apples and carrot tops, and a gentle buzzing was the only sound to be heard.

‘You two,’ he called pointing to two burly men. ‘Go and find the kitchen and check if the fire is still hot. The rest of you look around for any of these things that may be hiding, there are probably many places they could be so tread carefully. Bring me anyone you find, and I want them alive. I need to talk with t
hem.' He smiled to himself, an e
ffect marred by the lop-sided nature of his moustache. ‘And you,’ he called, pointing now at the largest of the group whose muscles gleamed with oil and perspiration. 'You come with me. We’re going to find the Library.’

‘Sire,’ called one
of his men,
sprinting
through the door
towards him. ‘We’ve found this.’ He held in his hand a small piece of parchment. ‘It was stuck to the back of the door.’

Lord Lansdown turned the paper around in his hands slowly. It said, ‘
we asked you nicely
.’ He scrunched it in his hand and threw it to the floor. ‘Very...amusing. But not very original.’

They walked through the building, each listening out for any sound that might give away the presence of somebody hiding, but all was completely still. The kitchen fire was stone cold, and the men pulled open doors and wardrobes, ransacking the alter and seeking to steal anything of value, but there was nothing left. In their frustration they broke some windows but that was really all they could do. Blank walls stood where paintin
gs had once been, and the tap
s produced freezing water only.

Lord
Lansdown
paced around the Library, his footsteps treading heavily on the floor. He smashed his hand down on the heavy table and saw that it had begun to buckle. Only one book remained on the shelf. He pulled it out carelessly, angry now and willing a fight. It was called, ‘Nature’s Honey Collectors,’ and
was a thin book
including bright and vibrant illustrations. He threw it to the floor, cursing.

As he walked out he trod over a trap door, and dust fell beneath the cracks in the wood. A dalmatian dog-head stood underneath it and waited for the steps to disappear. He then ran through the underground levels until he reached the space far beneath the courtyard, where a looking device was in place. He peered into the lens and a series of
other lenses produced a picture for him of the courtyard, where Lord Lansdown was soon shouting out orders at a group of assembled soldiers. He watched them leave and come back again, this time with rags and kindling.

With this the dog-head lit a very small fire of his own in an alcove, and watched as the plumes of smoke headed directly into the hives above him. He smiled as the angry bees began circling and more and mo
re swam into his view. He viewed
the soldiers trying to light the fire, and saw them jumping into the air and hitting their own arms, legs and heads. Lord Lansdown did it too, jumping and swatting himself and those around him until he ran back through the main doors, closely followed by the soldiers.

The alsatian dog-head
on look-out underneath the front of the building watched with fascination as Lady Lansdown beckoned for the soldier just behind her to come closer, and watched the men behind them making faces at each other. She seemed oblivious to it, and the young man in question kept peering back at them, his shoulders hunched over as he struggled to look at her.

The dog-head smiled as the men inside came running out erratically, swatting themselves furiously in the empty air. The dark-haired leader gestured for something and then from the back of the line four huge leather suits were brought out, each sealed everywhere over the hands and feet so that gloves and shoes appeared to be part of it. He watched as Lord Lansdown and three men wrapped themselves inside the suits and placed
thick gauze-like material aroun
d their eyes and noses. They went back in slowly, this time carrying lighted torches ready to drop onto the kindling.

The
dalmat
ian
dog-head watched from below
as the bonfire ballooned outwards, and saw the bees disappear together over the back of the building. They lit every pie
ce of wood that they could find
and each burned with a bright
,
blue flame. Tables and chairs caught fire and flames danced up beams. Finally, as a beam collapsed in the main hall they left the building and ran outside towards their men who cheered and laughed.

The alsatian dog-head ran as quickly as he could through the underground tunnels, keeping his head low to avoid hitting it. In some places there was just enough room to get through, and he squeezed himself into tight spaces and between crumbling walls. He lost his way a few times but used his sense of smell to guide him, eventually meeting up with the others at the guarded vault underground. He knocked with the secret code and the dalmatian dog-head opened it. ‘You’re out of shape,’ he said. ‘Sit down and I’ll fetch you some water.’

‘Beer. Beer and sugared gnats, I need the energy,’ he grumbled, raising the back of his hand to his forehead. Alpha Sawyre appeared in his line of vision and beckoned him over to a chair. The room was dark and wide and most
of them could just walk through
it without knocking their heads. Beds lined both sides of it, and he smelt the store of cold, dried food to his right. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said, finding his breath. 'There were around a hundred, all male humans, big and strong. The leader is a dark man with a strange beard. The bees worked at first, but they brought out leather suits that the bees couldn’t penetrate. They lit a fire and burned all the wood, thank goodness we left
nothing else there.’

‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘thank goodness. And you're certain they've gone?’

‘Oh yes, they were cheering and all that, and then they rode away. They had a great cart with a box on it, covered with rags and things at the back. I couldn't tell what's inside,’ he added.

Alpha Sawyre sighed. ‘We’ll wait down here for another day and then call the dogs back to us, to check that they’ve gone for good.’

‘Do you think the grease has worked?’ he asked. ‘Did it stop everything from burning?’

‘Here’s Tyler,’ she said, as the dalmatian dog-head carried a tankard of ale and some sugared gnats towards them. ‘Perhaps he can tell us if the grease worked?’

‘Like a charm,’ he said, passing over the beer. ‘A bright blue flame and then, pfft, minutes later it’s all over. The wood looked fine but I couldn’t see very well. And the false beam that we put up to burn was a masterstroke. Where did you learn all this Alpha Sawyre?’

‘We’ve been here, in this building, a long time,’ she replied wearily, helping herself to some gnats. ‘They were always trying to burn us out in the early days. It paid to make provision in case of emergency. The lens look-out is a recent addition,’ she added proudly, ‘I take it they worked well?’ They both nodded their heads, their teeth sticking together with the sugary goo. She smiled and looked at her people, all milling around purposefully despite remaining down there for days. Well, there was nothing for it now, the dogs’ intelligence had been right. She’d have to leave again for the first time in years, and she had a fair idea where they’d be heading.

Rufus and Elli reached the middle chamber of the Council House and stood in the centre of the circular walls, jostled and brushed against by the many people anxious to find the right way in. There were eight different corridors leading out of the room, and according to the sign each corridor had an additional eight separate corridors branching off of them. Rufus had told her that only one of the additional corridors led to a room as the others were dead-ends containing a small sign that thanked them for their efforts, and asked why they hadn’t paid more attention.

It was smelly and hot in the middle of the group, and people everywhere seemed to be in a great rush. The dog-heads peered over the top of the crowd, and Elli looked up to see something much taller than them bowing down so that his head didn’t touch the ceiling.

‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, pointing to the stooping shape as people jumped out of his way. 'An ogre.'

‘Now what gave it away?’ Rufus asked her. ‘The horns, the teeth like tent pegs or the fact that he’s twelve feet tall? Nothing wrong with ogres you know, they’re a bit grouchy but then so are you in the mornings. Of course, if you’re in a bit of a mood you don’t tend to rip people’s heads off, but you never know, you might be able to soon,’ he added warmly. Elli stopped and looked up at him.

‘Oh I didn’t mean it. Who’s touchy this morning?’ A small red-bodied gorgades stood on her toe, and Elli squealed as he apologised profusely. More gorgades appeared and separated them, and Elli pushed her way through them to get back to Rufus, who seemed oblivious. He took her hand and walked towards one of the corridors, following a stream of people who were converging and heading the same way.