Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 10] - Lanterns (37 page)

The big hands tightened, and the smile was a terrible thing to
see. "If I drop you, stupid cockroach, you know what happen?"

"I'd come down bang, and you're jus' trying to frighten me
'cause
big men don't hurt little children. 'Sides, it wouldn't be fair 'cause
you did say a fib! It's no use making your eyes go 'way. You did! You
said you'd got a master. You're the biggest warrior I ever saw, so how
could anyone be your master?"

For a moment he hung there, suspended, looking down into that
fearsome scowl. Then he was whirled around, another roaring laugh
blasted his eardrums, and he was set down.

"Whee!" he cried. "That was fine! Do it again, please!"

Instead, one mighty paw seized him by the chin, forcing his
head up,
while the massive face was lowered to within inches of his own. The big
man smelled funny, but Arthur decided it would be best not to mention
that, either.

"You are lucky like cricket," the deep voice said. "Maybe you
so lucky you will grow to be man. You go home, before big wind blow you
far across seas." He released his hold so suddenly
that Arthur almost fell, then he turned and went stamping off.

"If you were nice, you'd help me find my cat," called Arthur.

But the Mighty Warrior walked on without a backward glance,
making a strange rumbling sound as if he was talking to himself.

"No, he's not down here," snorted Sir Lionel irritably,
bending over
his workbench. " 'Pon my soul, I've a house full of people, but can any
of 'em keep an eye on one small boy and allow me to work in peace? No!"
A gust caused the door to slam shut, and he exclaimed, "If this wind
gets much stronger there'll be no roof over our heads! Speaking of
which, that fellow Williard sent his groom round with a dashed
impertinent note. Did you hear me send him packing?"

'So that's why he's so testy,' thought Marietta. "No, Papa. I
collect that Mrs. Crosbie Williard is still displeased with us."

He grinned. "One good thing to come out of it all is that the
old
lady has decided your aunt is demented, and her fool of a son says I
may forget any aspirations to his sister's hand. Hah! Kind of him, I'm
sure! He's decided now to press me for payment of the debt—much good it
may do him, for I can't pay monies I don't have. Lucky thing Fanny has
attached the affections of young Vaughan. He'll likely—"

A shout, a crash, and a piercing shriek cut off those ignoble
sentiments.

They exchanged a startled glance, then Marietta was running to
the stairs, her father at her heels.

The entrance hall was empty, but a stranger stepped from the
drawing
room and smiled at them amiably, despite the pocket pistol he held in
one very white hand.

Sir Lionel roared, "Who the
devil
are
you, sir?"

Marietta felt icy cold. She did not need the mockingly polite
introduction offered by this uninvited caller. With his pallid
skin
and jet hair and eyes he could only be the "pastry man" whom Aunty Dova
had described to her; the deadly individual who was Diccon's bitter
enemy. She heard her father blustering a demand to be told what
Monsieur Monteil was doing in his house.

"By all means," said the Swiss with a wave of the pistol,
"join us."

Hurrying into the drawing room, Marietta paused, stunned.
Jocelyn
Vaughan was slumped against the wall with Fanny holding a handkerchief
to his forehead. Blood streaked down his cheek, his eyes were closed,
and he looked as if he could barely manage to stay on his feet.

Fanny turned a frightened face and half-sobbed, "Papa! Oh,
Papa! They hit Joss so cruelly! With—with no warning!"

"Now you must be fair, Miss," purred Monteil. "He would not
let us
come inside. Most inhospitable. Besides, we have encountered the
lieutenant before, and he warrants no kindness from us, eh, Ti Chiu?"

A heart-stopping rumble of a laugh brought a gasped, "Good
God!" from Sir Lionel.

Following his goggling stare, Marietta thought, 'My heavens!
How did Diccon ever survive a fight with that enormous creature?'

Sir Lionel wet his lips and his voice shook slightly when he
asked, "Are you all right, Vaughan?"

"Now there is a singularly stupid question," observed Monteil.

Marietta started towards her sister, but the Swiss threw up a
detaining hand. "Stay where you are, pretty lady. I know; it is
heartless. But you see, I have only Ti Chiu with me. He is," he added
with a chilling smile, "usually sufficient."

Sir Lionel demanded, "Sufficient for what, sir? What the deuce
d'you
mean by breaking into my house, attacking my guests, bringing—"

"I require information," said Monteil. "You may help the
Lieutenant to a chair, Miss."

Fanny guided the sagging Vaughan to a chair, and knelt beside
him.

"What information?" asked Sir Lionel. "If you're after that
stupid treasure, I don't believe in it!"

"Nonsense," said Monteil. "You have had our friend the Major
as a
guest. From all I hear he is quite devoted to"—he strolled closer to
Marietta—"this lovely lady."

Sir Lionel pulled Marietta behind him. "Do not
dare
look at my daughter in that way, you insolent—"

Grinning broadly, Ti Chiu stepped forward and gave Sir Lionel
a shove.

Fanny screamed as her father went flying across the room and
crashed into the round table, taking it down with him.

Vaughan struggled to rise, but was helpless.

Infuriated, Marietta's hand flashed out and she slapped
Monteil
hard. He rocked on his heels. The marks of her fingers began to glow on
his pallid cheek. He swore in French, moved fast as a striking snake,
and seized her hair, jerking her to him. "It will be my pleasure to
gentle Diccon's woman!"

"Don't! Don't!" screamed Fanny.

Astonishingly high-pitched, Ti Chiu's voice rang out in rapid
sing-song Chinese.

Monteil paused, glancing at him sharply.

With a look of stark horror on his face the big man was
staring fixedly at the effigies on the sofa.

Following his gaze, Monteil pushed Marietta away. "But how
interesting," he murmured, and went over to examine Mrs. Cordova's
"friends."

In the same high-pitched voice his henchman cried, "No, no!
Master must not touch honourable dead!"

"Stupid fool!" Monteil held up "Mrs. Hughes-Dering's" arm and
shook it. "They're dummies. Stuffed dolls. Not stuffed people."

Ti Chiu turned his little eyes to Marietta. "These, they were
alive?"

Her knees were shaking, but sensing the superstitious nature
of the big man, she answered, "Yes. They were once my aunt's
friends."

The Chinese drew back. "This evil house. These people they
have call
up honoured dead. The gods will be angry! We must go, Master."

"So we will, idiot. When they've told me what they know of
The
Sigh of Saladin
."

A clap of thunder made them all jump.

Marietta said, "We don't know anything of the treasure, but
you can search the house if you wish."

"You are too eager, I think." Monteil's black eyes narrowed.
"Who else is here?"

Sir Lionel, who had sunk into a chair, stood again and said,
"Only my groom, who is in the barn and would not have heard—"

"Go and call him," snapped Monteil. "Or is there a bell?"

Sir Lionel's mouth opened.

Marietta said quickly, "Yes. Over here. I'll ring it." She
started for the bell pull.

"No!" snapped Monteil. "I trust you not an inch, madam. Ti—you
may summon another fool to join us."

Vaughan lifted his head painfully and stared at Marietta.

Sir Lionel looked frightened. He said, "No—it doesn't—"

"We'll see," said Monteil, smiling his icy smile. "Move, Ti!"

Ti Chiu seized the bell pull, his big paw encompassing the
wire that
Sir Lionel had so carefully concealed behind it. He tugged. In fact, he
gave several tugs.

Lightning flashed in a lurid blue glare as four of the
effigies leapt into the air and jerked about in a crazy dance.

Imre Monteil was a poised and intelligent man, but his jaw
dropped
at the sight. The effect on his henchman, however, was catastrophic. Ti
Chiu gave a shrill scream of terror, released the bell pull, and fled,
his charge staggering his master as he galloped madly for the kitchen
door.

Vaughan, who had been gathering his strength, threw himself at
Monteil's legs and brought the Swiss down. With lightning reaction,
Monteil reached for his fallen pistol.
Marietta
snatched it up, ran back a few paces, and aimed it at him, her face set
and determined.

Vaughan had stood. He was very pale, but he held his own
pistol and said, "Careful, Miss Warrington. I'll handle this scum!'

"He's a perfect beast, and—" In her fury, Marietta's grip
tightened and the pistol went off deafeningly.

Monteil, who had dodged aside, sprang forward and sent Fanny
hurtling at Vaughan.

Sir Lionel ran to help his daughter.

His aim blocked, and his eyes losing focus, Vaughan dared not
shoot.

Moving very fast, Monteil was in the corridor, across the
kitchen, and wrenching the back door open.

Sir Lionel snatched Vaughan's pistol and sprinted in pursuit,
but,
despite his terror, Ti Chiu had retained sufficient of his wits to have
scrambled to the box of Monteil's carriage.

With a crack of the whip and a thunder of hooves, the
carriage, Monteil, and his henchman were gone.

Merlin's hat was all droopy now, and the cloak was awfly wet.
The
wind was nastier, and even great wizards got hungry. But worst of all
was the thunder and lightning. Arthur didn't like either. Eric said
lightning was more dangerous, but thunder made such a horrid noise. It
was lucky he'd found the big tree, 'cause he didn't get quite so much
rain on him, but he must've walked hundreds of miles, and although he'd
called lots of times, Friar Tuck wouldn't come.

Shivering, he huddled against the tree and decided to go home.
Not that he was 'fraid, o'course; not really
'fraid.
But the Friar had prob'ly gone home by now, anyway, so he wouldn't be a
coward to go an' see. He'd jus' rest his feet a bit, first…

His neck was stiff when he awoke. He hadn't meant to fall
asleep and he got up quickly and started for home. The trouble
was
that he didn't know this part of the woods. He'd come in here 'cause
he'd seen the bushes moving about and something small had gone running
off. He'd stopped when he realized it wasn't Friar, but now he couldn't
seem to find his way out.

He was beginning to feel quite lonely when at last he emerged
from
the woods, and he was dismayed to see that the sky was getting to look
like lunch-time. The thunder rumbled now and then, but it was a long
way off, and the lightning was more like a glow on the clouds, not that
horrid zig-zagging dart down the sky. The clouds were awful dark,
though, and looked heavy. He'd be glad if they didn't let the rain out
till he was home. Wherever home was. If there was someone about, he
could ask. But there wasn't. Just him.

He trudged along a rutted lane, with hedges on one side and
the
woods on the other. Soon, the lane would leave the woods behind and go
somewhere, and then he'd be able to see Lanterns and he'd know how to
get home. After a while he began to sing his Detestable Dag song, so as
not to feel so lonely, but stopped when he heard a horse coming.

"Please, sir," he said eagerly when the horseman drew level,
"I'm
jus' a little bit lost, an'—" He stopped, and frowned. "Oh. It's you. I
don't like you anymore."

"That's not a very nice way to greet a rescue party, you
know," said
the horseman with a smile. "Come on up, old fellow, and we'll get home
just in time for tea."

Never had "tea" sounded so magical.

In another moment rescued and rescuer were riding back into
the woods.

"Why must he do it?" demanded Sir Lionel irascibly as Marietta
helped him into his greatcoat. "I tell you what it is, Etta, that child
has the wandering itch! It will do him good to lose himself for a
little while. He'll find his way home, never fear. He always does, and
everyone hereabouts knows him, after all, so there's no danger of his
getting really lost. Perhaps this time it will teach him a lesson!" He
paused and took her by the shoulders, scanning her face. "Shall you be
all right here, my love? You've had a dreadful shock. I'd not go off
and leave you alone, but if I send for Constable Davis he'll likely not
stir his stumps until the storm passes, and this ugly business must be
reported to the authorities at once. Besides, that fool Wantage must
come and look at poor Vaughan."

"Yes, of course, Papa. And I shan't be alone. Fanny and Aunty
Dova
are here, and Joss—Mr. Vaughan—will likely wake up feeling quite
restored."

Sir Lionel, who thought that Vaughan had looked extremely ill
when
Fanny had insisted he go to bed, doubted that remark, but said only
that it was very probable and repeated his injunction that Marietta was
not to go out searching for Arthur. She walked to the front door with
him. "But, it is half past one and he has been gone since
breakfast-time. You know how a storm upsets him!"

"What I know is that he's worried about that confounded cat
and
won't come back till he's found the creature. If he's not home by the
time I get back, I'll lead out a proper search party. I don't want
you
going off and taking cold in the wet. You're a gentle creature and will
need a good rest after that ordeal! Promise you'll do as I say."

Nothing would move him. Reluctantly, she gave her promise and
waved
from the terrace as the coach lurched and splattered its way through
the mud. The downpour had eased a little, but the skies were very dark
and threatening. Poor Arthur must be very cold and hungry. Unless—