Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (9 page)

For the moment the skies had settled. But the very cautious would have seen that the witches still clung to the buildings like huge insects.

Toad climbed the ladder to look through the telescope. Morning had already settled in, the crows were shouting through the woods and the sun had decided to show up. Melting snow dripped from the roof.

Something obscured his vision through the scope. Feathers.
White
feathers. Toad pulled back the cover from around the window and there was a dove, sitting on the edge of the frame. The doves were of no danger to the children, they did not deal with witches or speak with crows. Toad knew this because he had once overheard Esther explaining it to Jarvis. He watched for a while until a second dove appeared, and then another.

“Pip. Are you awake? Pip!”

“I am now,” Pip said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Come look,” Toad called. “They’re here again. They keep coming. Every day there are more and more.”

Pip took a while to come round. They had not returned until late and he was more interested in sleeping right now. Toad was doing it again: unable to keep still, that was Toad.

Ruffled white feathers blocked the window and a gentle cooing sounded. Beaks tapped at the glass and black eyes stared back at them.

Sam bobbed his head round the door. Breakfast was ready.

The day was filled with tiresome work around the tavern. Moving the barrels up and down the cellar steps, some filled to the brim, some empty. Washing the tankards, cleaning the crockery, sweeping and mopping the wooden floor, and replacing the dead candles.

When customers came the boys drifted discreetly into the back. The odd friend of Sam’s knew about Toad, but nothing was ever spoken of for safety’s sake. Just the occasional “How’s things?” or “Everything all right?” inquiry.

By nightfall Pip was exhausted. Such a long day of hard work, and not a breath of the outside world had he seen. He fell head-first into bed, drifting immediately into sleep.

But in his slumber his mind was working. He woke and sat up, shaking Toad in his bed. Toad snored and groaned but Pip persisted. “Toad, wake up!”

“What is it?” mumbled Toad, opening one eye as Pip lit the candle.

“It’s the doves!”

“Eh? What? Where?”

“The doves. Where do they roost?”

“Er … the clock tower, I think. Why?”

“I think they’re telling you something.”

“What?” Toad sat bolt upright with his eyes wide. “Telling us what?”

“The clock tower. It’s where Frankie Duprie is!”

“How on earth did you work that one out?” asked Toad, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The doves had started to appear just after the Duprie house had been raided. “It’s not going to be easy to get there. But it’s worth a try,” Toad decided.

And so the following day, they sat planning their way through the city. Taking the boat through the tunnels to avoid being seen leaving the tavern, they would emerge into the streets and put their plan into action.

They were now only two days from the Winter Carnival: costumes and market stalls and processions, people dancing and parading through the streets as the weird and the wonderful. They would move in disguise.

There was no sight quite so wonderful as the Winter Carnival in the hollow. It was a time when the elders of the city forgot the sadness of their lost children and cheered themselves through the cold months. Smells and sounds brought the darkened streets alive. Roasted meats sizzled in the market square. Breads and fruits of every kind were crammed onto the backs of wheeled carts and parked as stalls with canopies overhead. Jugglers and fire breathers filled the spaces in between. Choirs sang heartily, huddled into the warmth of their braziers.

The city folk believed that the carnival, with its dances and chants and wild costumes, was a way to ward off the evil of the forest. They mocked the creatures with their beast costumes and played out small acts in the street in which they overcame them with swords and spells.

But it was always such a risk. It tempted the forest creatures out from their holes and it was inevitable that trouble would boil. Often the beasts would mix in with the crowds, wearing cloaks and shrouds, as if in costume. And then they might tear into the people, attacking wildly. Or they would prey on vulnerable revelers as they walked home in small numbers or break into houses, knowing they were empty.

So the guardsmen secured the streets and alleyways on horseback, safeguarding throughout the night and patrolling the inner quarters of the city where the carnival was held. A ring of footmen and mounted guards circled the area. Fires were lit where the forest met the city to ward away evil.

It was early in the evening and the streets were still quiet.

In the shadows something lurked, waiting to emerge. It kept still, concealing its presence.

Hot breath spilled small clouds of nervous fog from its mouth. The hairs on its back were frozen to the touch and the brush of its tail trailed in the snow beneath. Its monstrous head moved shiftily from side to side, baring huge white teeth, and from within it made a sound.

“Are you all right, Pip?”

“Yes, I’m all right, but I’d rather have been at the front.”

“You’re too small to go at the front. The head needs to be higher than the back end.”

“Shush,” hissed Pip. “Someone’s coming.”

A handful of revelers rounded the corner, but were too rowdy to notice the beast lurking in the shadows. They ambled past, laughing and cheering and making merriment.

Pip and Toad would wait for the big parade, and when it came they would merge in and join the festivities, walking alongside the costumed city folk unnoticed.

They would stick with them until they reached the Firefly Bridge, and then break off when they hit the clock tower. They clung on to the hope that Frankie Duprie would be there waiting for them.

From atop a tall roof, Esther was on the lookout, determined to win favor with her master. She had seen something that did not look right. It was the legs. They were too short under that wolf costume. They could only be children!

She drew closer, landing on a nearby post. She would wait until she knew where they were heading, and then she would seek out Jarvis.

Noise came through the darkened streets: clashing of cymbals and banging of drums, voices singing, shouting, laughing. A peer around the corner revealed a gathering crowd, people emerging from their doorways and joining the revelry, torches leading the way. Louder and louder, closer and closer until the narrow streets were crammed with people in every possible disguise to ward off the spoils of winter.

The long snaking shape of a dragon, with what must have been a hundred feet, was walking the street like a huge caterpillar. Toad and Pip sneaked alongside unnoticed, lost in the thrashing of drums and instruments.

They passed through the main square and into the theater courtyard, meeting the procession from the Stage Fright Theatre Company. Pip sneaked a look. He recognized the voices, the storytellers, and a tall woman he had seen, all of them dressed in their costumes.

They continued through the maze of streets and alleys, sometimes struggling to pass through the walkways. As they turned corners others joined them until soon the whole city was walking with them. The noise was deafening.