White Eyes (part three)

Spoiler! :

:!: Do not read this if you have not read the first part of my story. It will make absolutely no sense. It is basically one scene, but quite a vital one, so do not be put off. Reviews are VERY much appreciated. Thanks, and God bless.

- Ignis

By the same time the day after, nothing had yet been heard of the whereabouts of Morgan’s mother. The case was brought to the town Mayor, who held a conference with all those involved underneath the bright gilded Bell that had long been the emblem of Charicadd Town. The Bell hung fifty feet high, proud and majestic in the bell tower of Charicadd Square. Many things it had seen since it had first been gifted to the town in honour of Sir Eujiin the Great, the founder of the town and one of the greatest warriors in history. The square had been built in his time, and the bell tower erected in honour of his death.

Now the present Mayor, Albert Farth (after the Farths who had originally governed the town) sat solemnly in its imposing shadow, at the head of a long table with very few seats, and even fewer occupants. The baker, Mister Oldman, sat gingerly at the opposite end of the table, fidgeting with his hat, his face even whiter than usual underneath the normal inch-thick layer of flour. On the left side of the table sat two sullen men whom Morgan did not recognize, each with a matching dour expression of boredom and glowering resentment on their features.

Opposite them sat a ruddy-faced, irritable man who was sweating and clutching tightly to the collar of a very dusty-faced boy, whose murderous expression matched those of the two surly men facing him.

Morgan scanned the faces of those surrounding her as she and her father took their places next to each other, nearest the Mayor. Mister Farth wore a very somber expression – he obviously thought that the way to make a good impression was to treat the matter very seriously. That idea was all right in itself, but the problem was that he would not stop with the formalities.

“Good day, gentlemen,” he began, his lips hardly moving a millimetre apart with each syllable.

“And lady,” interrupted Morgan, ever wanting to be acknowledged.

“And lady,” repeated the Mayor with a small frown. “You are gathered here today before the Bell for a very serious reason. There will be no interruptions – ’’ here he looked pointedly at Morgan, “– no unnecessary chatter and no childish assumptions or accusations whilst I still sit before you as Mayor.” Farth glared threateningly in what he obviously thought was an impressive manner at each one of them in turn. The dusty-faced boy looked away, but Morgan glared defiantly back at him.

“Now, the matter which I bring before you today is of the utmost importance. A great deal of mystery is involved, and a great deal of danger also, if I am not much mistaken. Tears have been shed over this incident, and much grief has been endured – indeed, much grief given – over the solving of this most intriguing and chilling case, which I now put before you, you being possible witnesses, informants, suspects or men – ’’

“Or women,” said Morgan.

“My dear young lady, I do not think I have ever met a more impertinent child in my life. Kindly keep quiet.”

Morgan glared.

“As I was saying, much speculation surrounds the solving of this most intriguing case, which I now put before you, you being possible witnesses, informants, suspects or men and women the matter has affected directly.” As he said the word ‘suspects’ his glance rested momentarily on the two shifty-looking characters to his left.

“As the Mayor of this town, and crowning Judge of the Board of Justices, I now present to you this most mysterious case, of which we have yet to find a lead of any sort. That is my intent today.

“The case stands as follows: At some unknown time of the night before dawn, unbeknownst to anyone, unchecked and un-followed, Katrina Ralphwood, from a shack on Old Dirt Lane, went missing from her home – without a trace.” Mayor Farth looked around impressively, as though hoping someone would say, “Surely not!” When no such reaction came, he cleared his throat and continued.

“There has been no further news of her whereabouts, and none seem to have seen her since the night before her disappearance. Can any one of you here today shed light on this hitherto shadowy mystery?”

Morgan glanced around the faces of those surrounding her. None seemed willing to talk. She decided that it could not hurt to tell the Mayor what she knew and guessed. Without bothering to raise a hand, without even a half-polite ‘may I?’ Morgan spoke.

“I know a little,” she said.

The Mayor turned his head sharply to look at her.

“And what might you know of this matter, my twice-rebuked young lady?”

Morgan scowled. “Much more than you think,” she retorted. “Firstly, I was the last one to see her before she went missing. I came into her room at night or speak with her, and she was awake, although I did not think so at first. The subject of which we spoke is my second piece of information, and the most vital. I think – I am sure – that I know why she went and … who she was following.”

The Mayor sat up straighter. This was going to be interesting.

“Carry on, my dear lady,” he said. “We are all listening to you. Your tale had better be worth the telling.”

“Firstly,” began Morgan, “I saw her – kidnappers. Yes,” she said, as her father looked up, “I saw them, and I shall call them kidnappers. They … they were not – human. They were not members of any species I have ever heard of or seen. I saw them when I was climbing a – a tree. They were hunched, so that they seemed as children, and they wore black cloaks that seemed more part of their bodies than clothing. Their heads were hooded, if hoods they were, and there were three of them. The oddest thing, however, was – their voices. They were humming, and from a distance the sound was oddly soothing. But – ’’ Morgan stopped herself. How was she to explain to them that the tree had given her its gift of tongues? It would sound ridiculous, surely. “But close up I heard what they were really saying,” she said instead.

“And what were they saying?” The Mayor was genuinely interested. Perhaps, for once in his life, he would have before him a mystery that was worth solving.

“Well, it was more like chanting, actually. They were chanting, and the words … the words weren’t nice,” she finished lamely.

“But what were the words? Pray tell us.”

“Something about woe, and foes, and voices sweet, and then something about stinking hearts. Then they said ‘from Evil’s hand, far from his land’, and that really scared me. But I went on listening, and they chanted of candles calling and strong men falling. And then there was another verse, and it went on about hell, and something about a golden bell, and again it mentioned the lights – and I cannot remember some of it, even though I wrote it down, but I do remember that they spoke of an intent to kill … that somebody was controlling them … and then they said something I don’t get. ‘Condemned to life, held by a knife.’ And to my mind that did not make sense at all. I thought, who on Earth is controlled by a knife? And then suddenly the noise stopped, and I went back … back home. To warn my family. But my mother had gone out looking for me.”

The Mayor was looking excited.

“You are a truthful one, young Miss. But tell me, does this mean your mother went missing in daylight after all?”

“No, no,” said Morgan. “Well – yes, actually, after a fashion. But I found her again. You see, I went out looking for her, in fear of the three little black figures, and I climbed my tree. I saw lights in the distance – down below in the forest. And then I shouted, and the lights went out. Then a great wind stirred up the treetops, and I fell out of the tree. Next thing I knew, my mother was bending over me.”

“So,” said Farth, “she was in the woods after all!”

“Well, yes. I guess so. At least … that’s really what I came in to ask her about, the night she disappeared. And she said that …” Morgan blushed. This was going to sound incredibly stupid. “She said that one moment she had been on the road looking for me, and the next she found herself in the middle of the forest, in a storm of smoke. Then she found her footsteps and followed them back to me. At least that is what she told me.”

“But, young Miss, your mother’s story has a loophole! You, no doubt, have guessed it not, but I, after much careful consideration of your story, have found it.”

“Actually,” said Morgan, “I found the loophole as soon as she told the story to me – if loophole it is, as she freely told me of her confusion when she found the footsteps.”

“Then no doubt you can tell me what it is?”

“The windstorm would have blown the footsteps away,” said Morgan simply. “What do you make of this new puzzle, Mayor?”

There was silence for a moment. Then –

“Bonkers.”

All heads turned to the scowling face of the dusty boy.

“Bonkers,” he repeated. “The lot of you. You actually believe her? She’s crazy, I tell you, and a witch too. Her and her crackpot old mother. Chased me with a kitchen knife, she did once.”

Morgan scowled back at him.

“Maybe there was good reason for that,” she muttered.

The boy ignored her. “From the moment I set eyes on her, I knew she was crazy. I mean, what kind of self-respecting girl challenges a mob of boys to a tournament?” He slapped himself on the forehead as soon as the last word had escaped his lips. Obviously he thought this too much of a revealing piece of information. Morgan now knew who he was. He was the impudent scroll-boy from her battle with poor Argo.

“So, floor-face,” said Morgan, “you’ve decided to plead your rights, have you? Is it not fair that a girl shoved you into the dust? Come to lodge a complaint, have you?”

“No,” spat the boy. If colour could have shown underneath the layer of dirt on his face his complexion would have been brick-red. “I came because Fart-face – ’’ here his father jabbed him sharply in the ribs with his elbow, “ – I mean, Mister Farth – I came because he seems to think I might have news of the disappearance of your crazy old witch of a mother!” He squealed as his father boxed his ears soundly.

“I didn’t mean it, honest, I only – ’’

“SILENCE IN THE COURT!” Mayor Farth looked about ready to explode. He had found the proceedings rather amusing until his name had come into it. “I will not tolerate this kind of impudent behaviour from respectable young adults such as yourselves. Be quiet!” He scanned the faces around him with a kind of furious indignation. “Now I will be hearing from Mister John Ralphwood, and not one of you will interrupt, on pain of – on pain of a very painful retribution. Do you understand me?” When nobody said anything, he turned to Morgan’s father. “Proceed.”

John’s face was the picture of hopelessness.

“I know nothing,” he said. “There as night fell, and when dawn broke … gone. I neither heard nor saw anything of her departure.”

“This leads us to believe that she left in a very quiet manner, does it not?” Mayor Farth was watching John’s face intently.

“Yes,” said John miserably. “Which makes me inclined to believe that Katrina left of her own free will. But why?”

“That is exactly what we are here to find out,” said Farth. “And we have before us here two possible witnesses. Their stories are intriguing, certainly, but I would like each one of you to think over them carefully. Mister Oldman, please proceed.”

The baker fidgeted even more urgently with his hat.

“Well … I don’t know much and – and it is quite likely that my information is of no importance …”

“It does not matter. Relate your tale speedily or I may lose my patience.”

“Well … as I say, I don’t know much …” catching the Mayor’s glance, he blanched. “But I will tell you what I can. It was night, black night, and I was out looking for my cat, which had disappeared. I was walking down the road, calling softly, and I had just reached the Charicadd Town junction when I heard a sort of – a sort of rustling in the bushes. Not much, but I listened, and it was certainly there. I thought it was Chippers – ’’

“What is Chippers?”

“My cat. I thought it was Chippers, so I started to creep closer, calling to him. Then I heard a sort of zipping noise past my left ear, and I thought it was a bat, so I shrieked and struck out, but nothing was there. I kept walking towards the bushes, but when I got quite near …” he looked around apologetically. “I know it sounds rather childish, but my sixth sense has always been for danger, so I turned and ran. I tripped over a sharp, long thing in the ground – and I picked it up. I could not tell exactly what it was, but I thought it was a dart of some sort. I tucked it into my pocket and kept running. I reached the square and I ran into Mr. Teagle, right at the foot of this bell tower. He had obviously been running. I asked him what he was doing, and I said that I had been out looking for my cat. He looked puzzled, and said that he’d heard a scream. That would have been me, I said, and I told him what happened. I showed him the dart, and he was very interested. I first met him when we were both the King’s men, and he was a bit of an expert in that area. So I lent him the dart for him to study, to see if he could pick up any leads, and we both went back inside.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, yes … strictly speaking. Only – I didn’t find Chippers.”

“What a shame. This is very interesting news, to be sure. Mr. Oldman – do you have any idea where Teagle is now? I would like to see that dart.”

“Why, I’m afraid Mr. Teagle was out this morning. Had a sign stuck up on the side of his house – ‘Gone for the day’, it said. Said he had some business with a wine merchant way out in East Bridge town. He’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“What a shame. We shall come back to this matter in due course.” Farth looked genuinely disappointed. “But whilst we still have young Master Peg with us, I think we should consult him. What have you to say, young man?”

The dusty-faced scroll-boy, or Peg, had a sour expression on his face.

“Don’t know nothing,” he muttered. Wincing as his father raised his arm threateningly, he said, “I mean, of course I do. What on Earth did I say that for?” His father lowered his arm but kept it uncomfortably close to the side of Peg’s head.

“What do you know of this matter?”

“Not much. But a little,” he added hastily as his father’s arm muscles tensed. “Just that I saw Mrs. Ralphwood the day before she went missing. I was walking down the road and I saw her coming in my direction, from the direction of her house. I hid in the bushes, remembering her kitchen knife, and watched as she passed me. Then a little further on, I saw her stop, and she sort of relaxed and turned towards the trees. Then she went in, and that’s all I know. I suppose she was gathering herbs for a ghastly potion of some sort – ’’ his drawl halted abruptly and turned into a choked squeal as his father pulled his head towards him by the hair and whacked the sides of his head hard. Ruffled and disgruntled, Peg sat back in his seat, nursing his glowing ears.

“That is all you know?” asked the Mayor, ignoring the subtle but frequent scenes of violence.

“Yes,” mumbled Peg. “I didn’t see no more.”

“At what time approximately did this happen?”

“Late afternoon,” he said. “The sun was still up, but it was going down.”

“I see. And at what time, Mister baker, did you go out looking for your cat?”

“About midnight, or a little before, sir.”

“And why were you out in the middle of the night looking for your cat?”

“Because it were missing, sir. My wife loves that cat, and I had to find it before daybreak, else she’d have my head, good and proper, all nicely arranged with celery on a silver platter. That she would have, mister Mayor. Or leastways she would, if she had a silver platter to arrange it on.”

“I see. And why were you, Master Peg, walking by yourself down a deserted road in the afternoon that day?”

“My father had sent me, Fart-f – I mean, mister Mayor, sir. He’d sent me to go down to North Bridge town to sell some stuff – ’’ here his father blanched and gave his son a savage jab in the ribs that brought tears to his eyes.

“What ‘stuff’?” The Mayor looked up eagerly.

“Nothing,” interrupted Peg’s father. His voice was low and gravelly. “Pegasus was jesting, weren’t you, boy?” he gave his son a slight pinch beneath the table.

The boy was burning with shame at being called by his full name, but he obeyed his father.

“Yes,” he choked. “Yes, I was being stupid. Stupid Peg, his tongue slipped, ha ha ha…”

“You cannot hope to fool me, boy,” said Farth. “What were you selling?”

Peg looked beseechingly up at his father, but his father was staring straight ahead.

“I was sent to sell … to sell … wine,” he said lamely. “I was going to sell wine. My father promised a keg of his finest to a merchant there, but he did not want to tell you because … because it was the same keg he promised you last year. Do you not remember?”

Farth did not remember, but he did not want to seem forgetful either.

“Of course I remember,” he said, “but I will let you off this time, on the condition that you give me your second best keg as soon as it is available.”

Pegasus’ father looked ready to do murder, but he nodded stiffly and twitched the corners of his mouth into a grimace that might have been intended to be a smile.

“As you wish, sir.”

“Good. Now, young Peg … did you reach your destination?”

“Yes. The sale was completed properly and on time.”

“Now, could you possibly tell me – who was this wine merchant you speak of?”

Peg’s breath caught in his throat and his father blanched again.

“We do not know his name,” said his father hurriedly. “And he does not know ours. He is merely a merchant living in North Bridge town. And he told us he is not to be staying for much longer. That is why we sold the keg in such a hurry. We wouldn’t miss the chance – he gave good money.”

“Where did this merchant live?”

“We – we do not know. He met us on the outskirts of the town. He told us nothing. He left as soon as he had the keg.”

The Mayor looked disappointed. Obviously he had thought he was on to something. “Very well,” he sighed. “I suppose we are on to our suspect interrogation.” He turned his sharp gaze onto the two dubious characters on his left. “Well?” he said. “What do you have to say for yourselves? Why are you here?”

One of the men, a scruffy tramp with sunken, rat-like features, glanced around at the company with the look of a mouse caught in a trap. The other, however, returned the Mayor’s stare. His eyes were bright blue and he wore a large black travelling cloak. It was he who spoke.

“Have we not been called?” his voice was strong and firm, but had a slightly mocking tone to it. “Have we not been summoned to attend this court of high personages – elders of a Board of Judges? Was it not you who bid us attend? If so, tell us why we are here. If not, I must plead for your leader to step forth.”

Mayor Farth was taken aback. “What leads you to think I did not summon you? I bid you attend, and attend you did, though choice was not on your side, so to speak. Tell me why you think I summoned you here.”

The rat-faced man spoke this time. His voice was high-pitched and wheezy, as though he found it hard to breathe.

“O kind sir,” he started. His companion glared at him in disgust at his snivelling tone. “Kind and mighty Lord, I beg for thy pardon. We are but humble travelers, weary and starving. We long for but a drop of water, a smidgeon of food from thy rich table – ’’

“Shut your snivelling trap, Argeus.” It was the blue-eyed man. “If you plan to speak, I suggest you stitch up your forked tongue before you open your mouth.” Looking to Farth, he spoke again to him. “Listen not to him,” he said. “Naught escapes his lips save lies and honey-coated barbs. I am Magéus, and I am from the South. We are merely travellers – in that at least my friend here spoke truthfully. We have come on one of our many ventures, and our wanderings have brought us by pure chance into these regions of the West. We have done nothing to offend any law we know of, but I can guess why you suspect us of kidnapping this lady. We are strangers, with a shifty look about us, and we are tall and have cloaks. Typical description of two men up to no good. However, I can safely promise you that if I mean harm to any in the world, the few are far from here in terms of distance and of character, and you are much safer at the moment than those few, even as you sit here gravely, deep in the folds of a dark mystery.” The mocking tone returned in strength as he said the last two statements. His eyes twinkled with the lingering traces of wry humour that none sitting in his presence could quite place. He stared, steadfast, into the eyes of Mayor Farth, who soon looked away, unnerved.

“Very well,” stammered Farth, “I accept your explanation.” Then his strong tone returned. “But not his.”

Argeus’ eyes widened and he stared pleadingly at his companion. Magéus ignored him. His face remained expressionless.

Farth spoke again.

“He has a shifty look about him, and you yourself said he was a liar and a snivelling worm. I do not like his looks!”

“Calm yourself, Mayor.” Magéus’ voice was lazy, and the spark of humour had not left his eyes. “He is with me. If he stays, I stay. And I do not think you want that, do you, sir?” A dangerous glint shone alongside the humorous twinkle in his eyes.

Farth’s hands were shaking as he covered his mouth and cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said, for the third time that day. “He may go with you. But keep in mind – do not trust him. I catch a traitorous gleam in his eyes!”

“I am already much aware of that,” growled Magéus. Farth closed his mouth abruptly.

“You may go. And go swiftly – do not tarry on the road.” As the two men rose and walked away, his eyes remained fixed on the back of Argeus’ head, and when the man risked a quick glance behind him he caught the Mayor’s shrewd eyes boring into his skull. Hastily he looked back and quickened his pace.

Farth cleared his throat again and looked back at his company.

“Shall we continue?”

John, however, had been watching the men closely throughout their rather one-sided conversation, and now he pushed back his chair and hurriedly excused himself.

“No, Mister Farth, sir. I think it can wait until tomorrow. Case closed?” And without waiting for an answer, he swept off after the travellers.

Farth glanced around, perplexed.

“Well,” he said, “case closed. We shall meet here again tomorrow, I think. Good day to you.” With that, he donned his peacock-feather hat and strode off briskly in the direction of his office, at the foot of the bell tower.

Mr. Oldman rose and walked away slowly, as Peg’s father hauled him roughly upright by the collar and started dragging him away from the table. Morgan stared thoughtfully after them for a moment, before rising herself and striding back down the road.

She reached her house at around three o’clock, and immediately knew her father was not there. She had suspected that he wouldn’t be, but it still disappointed her. His business with the two travellers could not be as important as his daughter, could it? Sighing, Morgan sat down to await his return.