Deathscent: Intrigues of the Reflected Realm. Robin Jarvis

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      An hour later the deed was done. Master Dritchly had received the news unhappily but without objection. He knew it would be futile to refuse but he was certain that his wife would not be so calm.

      She was not.

      A great deal of wailing and cursing had come from the kitchens but eventually the commotion had subsided and now the couple were discussing what was to be done. Mistress Dritchly loved her husband dearly but she could not bear to think of leaving Lord Richard’s service at such short notice. Between them it was decided that she would remain at the manor until a replacement could be found, then she would follow her husband to London.

      After speaking with his wife, Master Dritchly had gone to tell his apprentices. The boys sat at their benches in stunned disbelief and dejected silence pervaded the stables.

      Half-heartedly they started to dismantle the musicians to see what had gone wrong, but they were too preoccupied to concentrate on the task. After a while they climbed up to the loft where they threw themselves on to their beds.

      “S’pose you’ll be boss of us now,” Henry said to Jack.

      The older boy was chewing a piece of straw and merely grunted in response.

      “Reckon you can do it?” Henry persisted. “Can you tackle the tricky bits of work what come in?”

      Jack spat the straw from his mouth. “I can tackle you and that’s all you need bother about,” he said.

      “Eyes is always difficult,” Henry went on. “Old Dritchly might be a sweaty pink slug but he were clever with them eyes. Lining them up’s awkward; when I’ve had a go the lousy mechanicals end up with a squint and can’t walk in a straight line.”

      “Hush up, can’t you?” Jack groaned from the darkness. “We got to see the old boy off at dawn.”

      The hay loft fell quiet. It was a warm, airless night. Outside a morose snorting came drifting across the yard and Henry turned over restlessly. “Can’t sleep with that filthy row,” he grumbled.

      Adam had been lying on his back, staring up into the blackness which crammed the rafters. He could not sleep either but it was nothing to do with Old Temperance. The boy disliked change and he could not imagine what the workshop would be like without Master Dritchly to guide them along.

      Out in the piggery the great sow’s snuffling continued.

      “Foul, rumbling swine!” Henry seethed.

      “She’s missing the piglet,” Adam said softly. “Funny how they get attached to one another. I’ll go give him back to her.”

      Down the ladder he clambered. Then, taking up a lantern, he unhooked Suet and set about refilling a small glass phial with amber ichor taken from the recorder player. Fastening the two halves of the wooden creature together, Adam strolled out into the yard.

      Old Temperance’s large shadowy bulk was pressed against the piggery fence. The moment the sow saw him, the snorting grew louder and the glass lenses of her eyes glimmered in the dark.

      “Here you are,” Adam said, lifting Suet over the railing and pressing the Wutton crest on its back.

      Immediately the piglet jiggled into life, squirming in the boy’s grasp until he placed it upon the ground.

      “Glad to see someone happy,” Adam observed as Suet went scuttling for cover beneath its ‘mother’s’ barrel of a stomach.

      The mechanicals greeted one another with almost genuine affection and when Flitch, the other piglet, came scooting from the sty, the three of them went tearing about the piggery, squealing and squeaking as loud as their internals would permit.

      “Shut up or I’ll come down there and hack you all into kindling!” Henry’s voice shrieked from inside the stables.

      Adam managed a faint grin and, leaning on the fence, looked across to the manor. Several windows were still aglow with candlelight. In the topmost room, Mistress Dritchly was busily helping her husband to pack, and two of the guest bedchambers were similarly illuminated. A light downstairs showed that Lord Richard had not yet gone to bed. Adam guessed correctly that he had started on the October ale.

      “We’re going to have to work mighty hard once Master Edwin’s gone,” he told himself.

      Behind him, the wooden pigs had calmed themselves and Adam turned towards the stables.

      Hearing the boy leave, Suet came trotting to the fence where it rested its chin on the lowest rail and pushed out its snuffling nose. Then, very softly, it began to grunt and the sound brought Adam to a standstill. СКАЧАТЬ