The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors (14 page)

‘What about the noose?’

Now Jonah flushed with pride. He reached behind him and brought round what looked like a spear attached to a long line of rope.

‘My Cachelot spear. Best shot in the seven seas, they used to tell me. Well, I ain’t lost the touch. I aimed at the rope and it went clean through it. It was chancy, but, by the
barnacles, it worked!’

‘It certainly did,’ said Citrine. She wrinkled her nose. ‘That smell, like rotten fish, is it the spear?’

Now Jonah looked a little uncomfortable. ‘It’s my trousers. They’re my lucky ones, you see, the ones I was wearing when I was in the Cachelot. I reckon as they brung me good
fortune then so I wore ’em tonight. Us sailors are a superstitious bunch.’

Citrine laughed. ‘Who cares about a . . .’ she began, but at that moment Jonah pedalated straight into a commotion of the most horrifying nature: Vincent and Folly’s mortal
struggle against Kamptulicon and the Lurid.

‘Domna!’ exclaimed Citrine. ‘That boy’s being attacked, by one of those masked people!’

Jonah, spurred on perhaps by his earlier victory, grabbed his spear and jumped from the still-moving vehicle, leaving Citrine to slide across the seat and pull on the brake lever to bring the
machine to a halt.

‘Stop!’ cried Jonah, waving his hands and running towards the fracas. ‘Stop, you filthy landlubber!’

He wasn’t sure which victim to help first: the floppy-haired boy held down by the masked tatter-clothed assailant, or the blond boy who was struggling wildly in the arms of a shrieking
lunatic. When the lunatic saw Jonah, he snarled at him like a dog.

‘Begone,’ he cried furiously, ‘or you will forfeit your life!’

Jonah hesitated. At such close range he could see this was no ordinary confrontation. He looked at the pair on the ground and realized with a start that what he had taken for a mask was in
actuality a real face. As he dithered, the repulsive attacker suddenly released the boy, stood up and started menacingly towards Jonah himself.

‘Fish-guts,’ muttered Jonah. He stood his ground, brandishing his spear, and stared into the abominable face. In that instant he knew exactly what he was dealing with, though he
would not have thought it possible.

‘Stay back, you . . . you . . . mucky Lurid!’

He took aim and was about to release his spear when, to his sheer amazement, the Lurid stopped and stood back as he had instructed. It looked all about itself in apparent confusion. The other
man, his face a picture of absolute fury, let go of his struggling victim and strode towards Jonah and the Lurid, shouting, ‘
Assumate puer! Assumate puer!’

Folly – whom Jonah had mistaken for a boy – now no longer at Kamptulicon’s mercy, wasted no time. She dragged Vincent away from danger and helped him to his feet. At that
moment, to compound the confusion, a loud screeching of brakes signalled the arrival of Citrine in the Trikuklos. She drew alongside the trio and threw open the door.

‘Get in,’ she called. ‘Hurry!’

Vincent, Jonah and Folly clambered in and, before Kamptulicon’s disbelieving eyes, they drove away.

‘
Subside!
’ Kamptulicon shouted at the Lurid, and started running after the Trikuklos. But he had hardly gone more than a few yards when he realized that the Lurid had
disobeyed his order to remain behind and was also trying to follow the fleeing foursome. He whirled on the spot and thrust the pendant practically into the Lurid’s rotten face.
‘
Subside!
’ he screeched maniacally.

It was only when the Trikuklos disappeared around a corner that the Lurid finally came to a stop.

Folly’s Kryptos was feeling rather crowded. It was perfectly adequate for her, and it could accommodate a single guest without issue, but now she had two more –
Jonah alone took up the space of two – and things were decidedly tight.

After her second daring escape of the evening Citrine had pedalated the Trikuklos with all her might while Folly gave directions to the Komaterion. Vincent, pale-faced and weak, was slumped on
the back seat, with Jonah trying to revive him by the only means known to him, in essence a series of slaps around the face. Although the Trikuklos was very efficiently geared, it was not suited to
the boggy terrain of the salt marsh and eventually its occupants had to dismount. There was a thick mist all around and the flickering blue corpse candles were out in abundance.

‘Don’t pay them any heed,’ warned Folly.

Jonah pushed the Trikuklos; its wheels were set just close enough to stay on the narrow path, but more than once it came dangerously close to rolling off into the quaggy marsh itself. Folly and
Citrine supported Vincent who, although now able to walk, was clearly struggling to keep up. When they reached the Komaterion the Trikuklos could not negotiate a way between the headstones and
statues, so Jonah concealed it under cover of branches and brush near the gates.

Soon the three guests were sitting at Folly’s marble table recovering from their various ordeals, each sipping gladly on a soothing and aromatic tisane of Folly’s own concoction and
dipping hunks of bread into bowls of slumgullion. Vincent removed his metal hand and unwound the bandage. It was bloodied from Kamptulicon’s wrenching and he was about to throw it on the
fire, but Folly took it from him. ‘I’ll boil it,’ she explained. ‘And it can be used again.’

Jonah and Citrine had finished their drinks by now and were looking around the Kryptos with interest.

Folly drained her own tisane and spoke. ‘I think proper introductions are in order, and some explanations. My name is Folly Harpelaine and you are all very welcome to my home.’

Citrine spoke first. ‘I’m Citrine Capodel.’

‘We’ve met before,’ Vincent reminded her with his special smile.

‘Yes, I believe you have my Brinepurse.’

Vincent, his smile disappearing as quickly as it came, rejoined smartly, ‘And I thought you were to be hanged for murder.’

‘She didn’t kill nobody,’ Jonah chipped in protectively. ‘I rescued her from the noose cos I believe she’s innocent. The cards as good as told me.’

Vincent, more than a little put out by Citrine’s apparent immunity to his charms, looked disparagingly at Jonah. His voice was rough and uneducated, and he smelled strongly of old fish and
seawater. It was causing the atmosphere to become rather unpleasant, despite the countering effects of the tisane. Vincent tried to get a proper look at the lad, but he insisted on keeping his head
down. He was broad across the shoulder and almost as tall sitting down as Vincent was standing. And for some strange reason his coat toggles appeared to be made from animal teeth. He did not look
the sort of company a girl of Citrine Capodel’s ilk would normally keep.

‘Well, Jonah, how in Aether’s heights did you persuade the Lurid to back off?’ asked Folly. ‘It was as if you had some sort of power over it.’

‘That was a
Lurid
!’ exclaimed Citrine. ‘Good gracious me! Do you mean to say one of them has escaped from the Tar Pit? Was it with the old man?’

‘The filthy stinker was trying to kill me,’ said Vincent, strapping on his metal arm. Already, even after such a short time, he felt self-conscious without it. ‘And that old
man is Leopold Kamptulicon. He did this to me.’ He held up his arm. ‘He controls the Lurid—’

‘For now,’ interrupted Folly.

‘And for some crazy reason he wants it to take over my body.’

Jonah looked surprised. ‘Domne, so it’s true. Lurids really can take on human form.’

Folly explained briefly how she and Vincent had tried to steal the pendant, and how Vincent had lost his smitelight to Kamptulicon, and about the drifting stones.

‘We don’t know what the stones are,’ she finished, ‘but if I can find out why the Lurid listened to you, Jonah, it might help us. What do you know about the
Supermundane?’

‘Supermundane?’ Jonah laughed out loud. ‘I know only about whales.’

For the second time Vincent noted the look of disappointment that crossed Folly’s face. ‘Maybe it was the smell from your trousers,’ he said with a snigger. He was beginning to
feel better, a dose of Antikamnial had taken the edge off the pain, and he didn’t like all the attention this rough brute was getting. ‘Never mind a Lurid – it’s enough to
put a fellow off his dinner. You should burn them.’

Jonah protested. ‘I can’t throw away my lucky trousers. I was wearing them when I escaped from the belly of the Cachelot.’

Vincent let out a small noise of irritation. How in Aether had he got himself tied up with this bunch? Folly he could deal with, she seemed a capable, resourceful sort, but the other two?
Citrine was hardly his natural ally, more the sort he was used to robbing. And why wouldn’t Jonah show his face? What did he have to hide? The Kryptos walls were beginning to close in and he
was getting distinctly itchy feet. He was used to working alone, coming and going as he pleased; being cooped up with these strangers was bringing out the worst in him.

‘So, Jonah, you want us to believe you escaped from the stomach of a sea monster unharmed?’ he asked rather meanly.

‘Not entirely unharmed.’ Slowly Jonah removed his hat and Folly and Vincent saw his scarred face for the first time. They were both rendered momentarily speechless. Citrine talked to
cover up the awkwardness. ‘What shall we do about these trousers then?’ she asked cheerfully.

‘I’ll change,’ said Jonah. ‘I have more in my haversack.’ He pulled off the stiff briny garment and Folly took it and started to roll it up, her nose twitching at
the smell. As she did so, a shower of what looked like small stones fell out of the turn-ups. ‘Is that gravel?’ she asked.

Citrine collected them all up, a sizeable handful, and held them under her nose. She sniffed hard. ‘This isn’t gravel,’ she said. ‘I think this is ambergris.’

To everyone’s surprise, Jonah jumped on the spot with a whoop of delight and punched the air, his fist nearly reaching the ceiling. ‘By the briny ocean,’ he exclaimed.
‘Floating gold! My turn-ups were filled with floating gold!’

Folly stood stock still, the trousers in her hands, and just stared at him. Vincent’s ears pricked up. Had Jonah said gold? This was more like it!

‘It doesn’t look like gold,’ he said.

‘No, it don’t, but it’s worth a fortune!’ enthused Jonah. ‘These lumps are made in the stomach of the whale, from squid beaks and suchlike. Now and again the whales
spew it up and it floats ashore.’ He grinned. ‘And sometimes it comes out of the other end, if you get my drift. I must’ve picked it up in me turn-ups when I was in the
Cachelot’s guts. Who’d o’ thought it, eh? All this time it’s bin in me lucky trousers.’

‘But where can you sell it?’ asked Vincent, getting straight to the point.

‘To a perfumer, of course,’ said Citrine. ‘Jonah’s “floating gold” is a very important ingredient in scent-making. My own perfumer was complaining recently
that someone had broken into his shop and stolen his supply.’

Something to keep in mind for the future, thought Vincent. Out loud he said, ‘Well, now we’ve cleared up that mystery, let’s get back to business. Folly and I have to deal with
my Lurid problem.’ He looked over at Folly for a reaction, but she was deep in thought.

‘And I have to prove my innocence,’ said Citrine.

‘You know I’ll help you with that,’ said Jonah firmly. ‘But I ain’t sure how. That cousin of yours is as slippery as an eel.’

‘Family can be tricky,’ murmured Folly, re-entering the conversation. Then, decisively, she said, ‘I think for the time being the best thing to do is help Citrine.’

Vincent did a double take. ‘Er . . . why?’

‘Because Citrine and Jonah saved us, when we were in trouble.’

Vincent could hardly object; there was no denying he owed them a debt. ‘I suppose,’ he said with an air of resignation. ‘But I need that Lurid off my tail, and my
smitelight’s very important to me; it’s all I have of my father. The longer we leave it, the less chance—’

‘I know, I know,’ said Folly. She seemed preoccupied and was chewing on her lip. ‘But I need to think about this, before we go off on a half-cocked search for Kamptulicon.
Citrine, what do you need to do?’

‘I want go home, to fetch all the information I have on my father’s disappearance, anything that might prove Edgar’s betrayal for definite. There’s a safe in my
father’s study. Edgar put something of mine in there the other day. And there might be other documents too.’

‘Then take Vincent. He tells me he’s the expert in all matters of lock and key. Though I haven’t seen much evidence yet.’

Vincent curled his lip at the dig. ‘And what will you and Jonah do?’ Suspicion was vellicating his heightened senses. Something was definitely up. Folly was distinctly anxious to get
rid of him.

‘Jonah can stay here with me and lie low,’ she said. ‘I’m going to look at the book again. Maybe I can work out what these drifting stones are.’

Vincent thought for a moment. Folly was probably right. And he could no doubt pick up one or two things for himself while he was in the Capodel Townhouse. ‘There’s one slight problem
– what if the Lurid finds us? It’s already tried to get me twice. What if it’s third time lucky?’

‘I’ve thought of that.’ Folly was holding a rag and a small brown bottle. Vincent recognized it from the trunk. She tipped the bottle on to the rag and then wiped the oily
liquid across Vincent’s blistered forehead. ‘This will confuse the Lurid. It won’t be able to track you now.’

Jonah laughed. ‘Smoked haddock! That stuff really stinks!’

Vincent made a face and looked at Citrine. ‘Well, let’s go now then; it’s the middle of the night – everyone will be asleep.’ He was almost daring her to refuse,
but she was up and ready to leave in a moment.

‘Excellent. Then take these, just in case.’ Folly pressed upon them both Natron dispersers and beanbags.

‘And the Mangledore,’ Citrine reminded Vincent.

Not long after, and more than adequately armed against the Lurid, and indeed any other Supermundane entity that might be abroad, Citrine and Vincent crossed the threshold of
the Kryptos and set off into the night.