Seven Sorcerers (25 page)

‘You … you would have become one of them.’

Now he did snarl. ‘I am one of them! Stupid brat. They’ll never take me back now, will they? You’ve seen to that. And to think I helped you! Right at the start, I should’ve left you to be gored by the bull.’ He turned and strode away.

‘No,’ yelled Nin after him, fighting tears. ‘You’re not one of them! You’re not.’

Jonas stopped a the edge of the sea and looked longingly up at the sky. ‘Did you see the dawn? Did you feel it?’

Nin nodded. ‘But it’s not where you belong. You’ll see.’

At mid-morning they stopped to rest and Skerridge lit a fire, then disappeared off to get breakfast. Nin huddled next to it feeling cold to her heart. Jonas was standing nearby, gazing at the sky again, with Jik keeping guard.

Jonas had said little, but then he hadn’t howled or snarled either. He still shook her off whenever she got too close, but at least he did look at her when she spoke to him.

‘Jus’ bread an’ cheese this time,’ said a voice at her side. ‘An’ I ’ad t’ go a few miles fer that!’

Nin eyed him thoughtfully. ‘How exactly do you pay for it?’

‘Pay?’ Skerridge looked puzzled. ‘Oh pay! Y’mean what do they get fer givin’ me their bread an’ stuff ?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well they don’ get anythin’ as such.’

‘So you steal it?’

‘Not ’xactly. I makes it up to ’em by not wreakin’ ’avoc in their whereabouts. So I s’pose ya could say they gets peace an’ quiet. Which is a good bargain if y’ arsk me.’

Nin shook her head.

‘Anyway. Wha’s wrong wiv bein’ a thief ? Tha’s what I am. Tha’s what I do fer a livin’. I’m the thief of yew.’

Nin laughed. ‘You haven’t got me yet, Skerridge,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You haven’t got me yet!’

The bogeyman paused in the middle of shoving some cheese into a hunk of bread. Then he grinned. Then he laughed.

‘Yer quite right,’ he chuckled. ‘I ’aven’t, ’ave I?’

Nin thought the journey would never end. The sand rolled out forever and she trudged on with her mind
empty of everything except keeping Jonas in view.

Skerridge followed Nin, carrying Jik on his shoulders. Beside them the waves rolled in, cold and bleak, the sea stallions frighteningly large as they dashed themselves to foam on the beach. Her legs hurt and her feet were sore, burning lumps. It was early afternoon and they had been walking since dawn.

‘We’re ’ere,’ said Skerridge.

The sand had been slowly turning into shingle and now it ended in a cliff that towered against the sky. Sea surged around the rocks at its base, forcing them inland.

‘It ain’t nat’ral. Made by magic years before the plague, that was. Sorcerers used t’ like messin’ around wiv the Land. There’s a way up furver round.’

The way up proved to be a ladder of rock. Nin’s heart sank, but she drew a slow breath, wiped her hands on her jeans and took hold of the stone. It was a long, hard climb. Skerridge ran up the wall beside her, offering help that she stubbornly refused. Jik, still perched on the BM’s shoulders, hung on grimly, his stubby hands clasped around Skerridge’s head.

By the time they reached the top, Nin was worn out. They had come out on a grassy slope edged with tall trees and flowering shrubs. In front of her ran a stretch of lawn, overgrown with wild roses. The remains of a path wound through the shrubbery and up past a white ruined building that looked like a temple. Then up some more.

At the top of the hill was the Terrible House.

It towered against the sky in a jumble of chimney pots and dark stone. Ravens circled the bell tower and the pointed roofs, and all the windows were gone, bricked in and mostly covered with ivy. The House was perched on a corner of cliff and, on the right-hand side, the walls seemed one with the precipice. A wedge of evergreens stood tall and dark against the left. Nin could see no signs of life anywhere. It looked blank and forbidding, a place that kept secrets.

Nin shivered. Her tired legs refused to take her any further and she found herself sitting on the ground with no idea how she got there. She couldn’t see Jonas anywhere. Jik had gone after him and Nin could hear the mudman in the distance, calling at the top of his voice.

Skerridge loomed over her, his ugly, tooth-filled face hovering close to hers. His red eyes gleamed in the shadowy light. This is it, she thought, he’s going to put me in the sack and I’m too tired to do anything about it.

Then everything went dark.

Jonas

Jik

he world turned on its head. Scrunched up in a ball, Nin stuck out a hand and touched rough cloth. She wailed, tears stinging her eyes.

‘Yer inna sack, live wiv it,’ muttered Skerridge. He was already on the move and the bobbing up and down as he hurried towards the Terrible House of Strood made her queasy.

‘How could you do this to me after all we’ve been through!’ For some reason Nin felt betrayed, even though Skerridge had warned her. ‘Do you really NEED to be the champion? I mean …’

‘Yep.’

‘Skerridge!’

‘Give it up, kid, yer goin’ to Mr Strood an’ tha’s that.’

Nin struggled, her despair turning to anger. ‘You … you …!’

‘Bogeyman,’ said Skerridge patiently, ‘the word yer lookin’ for is bogeyman. An’ this is what bogeymen do.’

She gave up and snivelled quietly. She was too tired to deal with this. It wasn’t fair. Her sacking prison shook
and joggled.

‘We’re up at the ’Ouse now. The main part is where Mr Strood lives alonga the guards. Mostly everyone else lives in the extension. Which is, like, at the back. And down some.’

‘Down?’

‘Yeah. Right down in the cliff, like. Oh, an’ out under the beach a bit an’ all. The front ’all an’ that is traps an’ guards, but ya don’ need t’ know that cos even if ya survived, which ya won’t, only a turnip’d try gettin’ out that way.’ Something in his tone made Nin listen carefully.

Skerridge chuckled. ‘Course, fing is they say there’s anovver way out. Seraphine’s Secret Way, they call it. No one knows fer sure where it is, not even us bogeymen. Rumour ’as it ya go right down past the storerooms, the livin’ quarters an’ all that, then frew the graveyard an’ there is it.’

Suddenly Nin realised what he was doing. ‘I suppose,’ she said cautiously, ‘once you’ve handed me over you’re still champion kid-catcher. If I, like, got away then it would be Strood who lost me, not you.’

Skerridge snorted with laughter. ‘Ain’t nobody gets away from Mr Strood.’

Her small, cloth world jerked for a moment. She wriggled, trying to get the right way round. There was a thud, like someone banging on a sturdy door, and then the sound of bolts being drawn. Lots of bolts.

‘It’s Bogeyman Skerridge,’ said Skerridge. ‘Gotta delivery.’

‘Righty-oh. In yer come then. Mind the traps.’

‘Ow!’ Something knobbly got Nin in the ribs. She tried to kick it.

‘Tha’s better. They’re usually strugglin’ more’n that. Mr Strood likes ’em alive.’ The guard sniggered. ‘All in one bit, is she? No bites taken out of ’er like ya did that ovver one? Gone down in ’istory that ’as.’

‘Pah,’ snorted Skerridge angrily. ‘The kid deserved it.’

Skerridge hefted the sack on to the other shoulder. Nin yelped. ‘Mind you, took a lot o’ self-control, this one. Caused me a lot o’ trouble.’

‘You did what?’ demanded Nin as they hurried down the corridor and up some stairs.

‘Quiet,’ snapped Skerridge. ‘It were ages ago and only a coupla bites, more or less. Now, lessee. Two steps left, three to the right …’ There was a loud twang. ‘… an’ tha’s the poison-tipped arrows gone. Then we got the whirlin’, jagged-edged cuttin’ fings. Better duck ’ere …’ (Some nasty swishing sounds.) ‘… quickly follered by the hidden crushin’ fings …’ (Some grinding noises.) ‘… are ya gettin’ all this?’

‘Best not go this way, is what you’re saying.’

‘Good-oh. Now we got the inner guards, so shut it. ‘Ullo, Stanley. Big spear ya got there.’

‘Nice t’ see ya, Skerridge.’

‘Floyd. Like the knobbly club!’

‘Fanks, mate.’

‘Sconce …’

‘OK! OK!’ muttered Nin. ‘I got the point.’

They hurried on. Nin was beginning to feel really sick. There was a pause and some shuffling about of the sack. Skerridge cleared his throat loudly.

‘Erm … before we go in … I was gonna say … Well, it’s been fun. Following yer across the Drift, not t’ mention the Widdern. Gettin’ yer outa scrapes. A bogeyman don’ get much variety in ’is workin’ day mostly, so I jus’ fort I’d let ya know.’

‘Thanks,’ said Nin grimly.

‘Don’ worry. ’e’ll pro’bly jus’ ask ya some questions and then frow ya to ’is Deff. It’ll be quick an’ it won’t ’urt as long as ya don’ try to fight. Got that?’

‘He’ll what?’

‘Frow ya to ’is Deff. Right, ’ere we go then.’

Nin didn’t have time to be puzzled before she heard him knock on a door and a voice said. ‘Come in.’

There was a shuffling sound and the swish of perfectly oiled hinges as the door swung open and Skerridge edged forward. A moment later, he tipped her out of the sack on to a thickly carpeted floor.

‘Ah, Skerridge,’ said a warm voice somewhere above her. ‘Got here at last, I see?’

“Ad a bitta trouble wiv this one, Mr Strood, sir, but ’ere she is.’

‘Hmm, still the champion, eh?’

‘Yessir!’

Nin scrabbled up from lying on her face with her mouth full of carpet, to sitting propped on her hands. She shook the hair out of her eyes and looked up. She blinked.

‘Well, now, what have we here,’ said the voice in a friendly tone. ‘What’s your name, little girl?’

Nin frowned. She wasn’t keen on the little girl part, but she could feel Skerridge’s eyes burning into her anxiously.

‘Ninevah Redstone,’ she said, then added, ‘sir,’ rather pointedly.

‘Hmm.’ Strood wagged a thin finger at her. ‘Are you the girl who made a Fabulous? Fascinating. You must tell me all about it.’

He gave her a twinkling smile. Nin shuffled back a little way on her behind until she bumped into Skerridge’s ankles and had to stop.

Strood chuckled. ‘Making a Fabulous AND giving my champion kid-catcher such a hard time! Goodness, you’ll be trying to get away from me next! That’s all for now, Bogeyman Skerridge. Off you go then.’