The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors (19 page)

Once again the Kryptos was suffused with the intoxicating smell of tisane, but this time it was Folly who was being ministered to. She lay on her bed, her bloodless face framed
by her tousled white hair. But she looked peaceful, for a moment at least, before she opened her eyes and sat bolt upright.

‘Where’s Jonah?’

‘He’s gone with Citrine,’ said Vincent. ‘How do you feel?’

Folly sat back slowly against the wall. ‘Awful. Like a bottle that’s been turned upside down and emptied.’ She took the mug from Vincent and sipped. ‘I can’t really
describe it. I couldn’t speak but I knew what was going on.’

‘Do you remember what happened?’

She frowned. ‘Jonah saved my life. But how did he know – about the Mangledore?’

‘A lucky guess, he said. He knew that Suma made it from the last body on the gallows, and when Kamptulicon let slip that’s who the Lurid was he worked out the hand belonged to it. So
he threw it in the Tar Pit, and the Lurid had to leave you and return.’

‘The Lurid, my brother,’ murmured Folly.

‘Kamptulicon must have taken a bone from the gallows to summon it in the first place.’

‘The leg was missing,’ recalled Folly. ‘I saw the body on the gallows, but I didn’t know who it was.’

Vincent narrowed his eyes. ‘Why do you carry a Depiction of Leopold Kamptulicon?’

Folly started and began to feel in her pockets.

‘I have it,’ he said, and showed her the creased picture. ‘I found it on the shore of the Tar Pit, where Jonah picked you up.’

‘My father gave it to me, so I would know Leopold Kamptulicon when I saw him. He’s a Cunningman.’

Vincent sat back on his heels and looked at her expectantly. ‘You know, everyone was right. Suma doesn’t do anything without good reason. And I’m beginning to think that about
you too.’

Red spots began to burn on Folly’s cheeks, and not just from the tisane. ‘You deserve an explanation.’

‘All I want is the truth – about you and Lurids and Kamptulicon.’

Folly took a deep breath. ‘Lurids are evil, whoever they were, and they need to be dealt with. When the Lurid grabbed you in Mercator Square I was ready to destroy it, with my
Blivet—’

‘The silver weapon?’

‘Platinum,’ she corrected. ‘Then up close I saw it was Axel, my brother. How could I destroy my own brother! So I tried to get the pendant.’

‘But then Jonah came along with his ambergris and we all ended up in the Kryptos.’

Folly took another mouthful of tisane. She was starting to look like her old self, still pale but no longer deathly. ‘When Jonah said “floating gold” I realized his ambergris
was the “drifting stone” from the book. I’d read about a ritual that used bloody bandages, so I knew I could get the Lurid to come to me. But I couldn’t risk the Lurid
finding you first – you were so determined to get rid of it . . .’

Vincent rubbed at his artificial arm. ‘I had good reason!’

‘So I gave you the oil to make sure it didn’t come after you.’

‘Why didn’t you give me the oil before?’

Folly’s face went even redder. ‘I needed you to flush out the Lurid.’

‘Bait,’ said Vincent with a shake of his head. ‘I knew it. I suppose that’s what I should expect from a hunter. That is what you are, right? Though I don’t know
what sort of animal you hunt with a Blivet.’

Folly was starting to look very uncomfortable. ‘I am a hunter, that’s true, but I don’t hunt animals.’

‘Then what?’ asked Vincent. ‘People?’

Folly hesitated. ‘No, not people. I hunt Supermundane entities – Lurids and Noctivagrantes and Vapids. That’s why I carry a Blivet. It’s a Supermundane weapon.’

Vincent’s mouth fell open.

‘It can destroy Lurids, even Phenomenals, and they’re particularly tricky – they’re so hard to see – but it’s a last resort. It’s much better just to
send them all back to where they came from. My brother is the reason I’m in Degringolade. I was looking for him and the last I heard he’d been seen here with Kamptulicon. I didn’t
know that he had been hanged for murder.’

Vincent remained speechless.

‘So,’ said Folly softly, ‘now you know.’

Just then the door was flung open and Citrine came running in. She held it for Jonah, who was carrying something rather large and awkward. He set it down on the table with a violent exhalation
of breath.

‘Look what we’ve got!’

It was the Cold Cabinet from Edgar’s study.

‘If we’re going to be staying here, I thought we might as well use it,’ said Citrine. ‘We’ll be able to keep food in it.’

‘Domna,’ said Vincent finally, still looking at Folly. ‘That’s incredible.’

‘Spoken like a true Degringoladian,’ said Jonah.

‘Not quite.’ Citrine laughed. ‘Didn’t you know? Men say “Domne”. “Domna” is for the ladies.’

‘It’s just up here,’ whispered Citrine. ‘In among the trees.’

It was late Nox and she and her three companions were making their way stealthily across the beautifully titivated grounds of the Capodel Townhouse. The moon, perhaps embarrassed at the chaos it
had caused in the early hours of Lux, was hiding behind the inky clouds. They walked in pairs, Citrine and Jonah first, then Folly and Vincent, who were deep in conversation.

‘I was wondering,’ said Vincent. ‘How do we know Kamptulicon hasn’t got another bone?’

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ said Folly. ‘Once a Lurid has been returned to its final resting place, it’s almost impossible to embody it again.’

‘Oh, so that means . . .’

‘Yes, I can’t summon Axel again.’ She sighed. ‘But that can’t be helped. There are other things to worry about now. Kamptulicon won’t rest until he gets his
book back.’

Vincent laughed softly. ‘Good old Jonah, taking Kamptulicon’s cloak. And my smitelight was in there too.’

By now they had reached the copse. Citrine led them into the dense woodland until they came to a small stone building in a clearing.

‘The Capodel Kryptos,’ she whispered respectfully. In the triangular pediment above the double doors was the family crest. ‘This is where Edgar claims to have laid my father to
rest today, but I will not believe the body in there is his until I see it with my own eyes.’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ asked Vincent. ‘The body was taken from the Tar Pit. It won’t be pleasant.’

Citrine nodded. ‘I have to know.’

Vincent stepped forward. He handed Folly his smitelight and she directed the light at the lock. Moments later the door was open and the four slipped in.

‘Impressive,’ whispered Folly with a smile. She shone the smitelight around the cool room.

‘It’s just like yours,’ said Jonah. And it was. There were niches in the walls, complete with caskets and urns, and in the centre was a marble plinth upon which rested a new
casket. It was intricately carved, with delicate vines and leaves and flowers. Edgar had spared no expense, noted Vincent. Could Citrine be wrong about the body?

Citrine went to the plinth. ‘Will you help me?’ she asked, and there was a tremor in her voice.

Vincent stepped forward and flicked the switch on his wrist. Then, using the powerful magnetic force of his artificial hand, he managed to turn and extract the bolts that secured the lid. Even
so it wouldn’t budge. ‘Edgar surely didn’t want anyone to open this,’ he said under his breath. He admitted defeat and Jonah took over.

Taking his spear, Jonah pushed it between the lid and the casket and began to lever it up. It took all his strength but finally, with a loud cracking noise, the lid came free.

Citrine took a deep breath, steadied herself by holding the edge of the casket and leaned forward.

‘Is it your father?’

‘Look.’

Jonah and Vincent and Folly all peered cautiously into the gap.

‘Sea slugs, it’s empty!’

Citrine clasped her hands together and her eyes were shining. ‘This means there’s still a chance he’s alive.’

‘Stranger things happen at sea,’ murmured Jonah.

Just inside the wrought-iron gates of the Capodel Chemical Company Manufactory a gleaming black Troika with a trio of horses stood motionless under the night lights. Inside the
carriage two men were deep in conversation.

‘Well, Leopold, this has proved to be an interesting week – failure and success in equal measure.’

Kamptulicon leaned forward, wringing his hands in the dark. ‘But I have proved, have I not, that I can do it? That I can summon a Lurid and give it a body. Is that not what was asked of
me? The rest is just a setback, nanything that cannot be dealt with.’

‘Well, those four certainly need to be dealt with. But they have gone to ground. Neither hide nor hair has been seen of them since the Ritual.’

‘They have something of mine, and I will get it back.’ There was a brief silence before Kamptulicon ventured, ‘How goes it, down at the Tar Pit?’

The other man sighed. ‘The fires are almost out, the Lurids are still wailing and there’s no shortage of tar, so I suppose it’s not so bad.’ He drained his glass and
stood up. ‘Shall we go in and see what Mr Capodel has for us?’

Edgar limped to the door – he had taken to using a cane since he had been run over at the hanging – and greeted his two visitors enthusiastically, ushering them
into the impressive entrance hall of the Capodel Manufactory. Shortly after, the threesome were making their way towards a set of double doors at the end of a long corridor.

‘The funeral went well,’ said Leucer.

‘Yes, indeed. And now we can continue with our plans. Citrine and her friends can’t evade capture for much longer. I have every guardsman in the city looking for her.’

‘Good,’ said Leucer. ‘I do hate loose ends.’

By now they had reached the end of the corridor. ‘They’re in here,’ said Edgar.

He unlocked the door and gestured to the men to go through into the small low-lit room beyond. A gentle hum resonated around the cold space and there was a faint smell of tar. Leucer and
Kamptulicon stood and stared for a moment. Behind them Edgar shuffled his feet, rubbing his hands. The Cunningman turned to him with a look of great excitement.

‘Domne, but this is splendid! You have outdone yourself,’ he said.

Edgar smiled nervously. ‘And you, sir,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’

Leucer d’Avidus nodded his head slowly. ‘My dear Edgar,’ he said, ‘this almost makes up for all the mishaps along the way.’

Edgar beamed with relief. ‘Marvellous. I have taken the liberty of bringing a bottle – your favourite, Grainwine. Will you join me in a toast?’ He poured three glasses.
‘Here’s to the three of us,’ he said. ‘With our combined talents, power and wealth, we are an invincible team.’

And Leopold Kamptulicon, Edgar Capodel and Leucer d’Avidus raised a glass to themselves.

Yes, thought Edgar. I
have
outdone myself, despite all the obstacles, especially Citrine.

And he looked with great satisfaction upon his achievement, one hundred gleaming black Cold Cabinets.

WANTED

Reported by Hepatic Whitlock

These four individuals are believed to work together as a criminal gang and are responsible for theft, violent acts and murder. It is suspected that they have knowledge of the
Furtivartes and are in league with Supermundane forces, as evidenced by Folly Harpelaine’s grotesque performance on the shore of the Tar Pit. The Outsider, Vincent, is not a native
Degringoladian. The fourth fellow is immensely strong; he assaulted five guardsmen at the Ritual. We cannot ignore the possibility that his powers are derived from unearthly practices. Citrine
Capodel’s recent escape from the noose certainly smacked of Supermundane intervention. Her cousin Edgar Capodel has disowned her, declaring her no longer worthy of the Capodel name.

Now, dear readers, I do not need to tell you that Degringolade is no stranger to the Supermundane. We all hear the howling Lurids; we take measures to protect ourselves from foul Vapids and
Noctivagrantes and Lemures. So you will understand why, in keeping with a long-held tradition in the history of newspapers and for your ease, I have taken it upon myself to name these nefarious
criminals. From this moment forward they will be known as:

The Phenomenals

that their reign of terror may come to a quick and painful end!

‘Hmm,’ murmured Suma as she handed the paper to Wenceslas. ‘Hepatic Whitlock certainly knows how to whip up a storm. To equate those four youngsters with
Phenomenals, possibly the most baneful and pernicious of all Supermundane entities? But you know what they say.’

‘What’s that then?’

‘When the local paper goes so far as to give you a name, you’ve outstayed your welcome.’

Wenceslas harrumphed. ‘I suspect these “Phenomenals” will be around a while longer. Methinks they have unfinished business.’

Suma gave him a little smile. ‘Let’s have a look at the cards. Toss the maerl, Wen, and take a chance.’