The Circle Line (12 page)

Weewalk took them back a little way before turning in again, towards the fire.

Presently they came to an area that had been entirely burnt. The charred and blackened shells of buildings and unrecognisable piles of woods and stone still smoked. Small fires flickered here and there but the blaze had eaten just about all it could. This part was deserted, everyone's attention focused elsewhere. After a couple of streets Sam recognised an alleyway they had taken the night before by the slope and twist of its cobbled surface. Now, more certain of their direction, they moved towards the bakery.

The building had gone. Hardly anything was left other than ashes and crumbling beams. The ground was hot underfoot and Sam could feel it through the soles of his shoes. After some searching they found a space where the dark maw of the cellar was visible. Pulling away a few beams with blackened hands they were able to make a space large enough to drop into. Much of the cellar was full of burnt wood. It was almost impossible to breathe with all the charred ash and smoke in the air but they found the line, its hum filling the air, and Weewalk was soon able to open it.

Chapter Ten

The cool dark tunnels of the London Underground were fresh after the smoke of old London. They walked for some time, Weewalk never allowing them to stop and, only occasionally, when there was no other route, taking them through the brightly lit stations. Eventually he paused before a door in a dark tunnel. There was no handle or keyhole. Weewalk moved his hand over the door, using presence to release the hidden mechanism inside and open the way, ushering them through before closing it carefully behind them. A stone archway lay ahead of them, a symbol of a mermaid etched into the stone at the point of the curve. Darkness hugged at the walls.

‘Here we are.’ said Weewalk, ‘We'll be safe in no time.’

At the sound of his voice a shadow detached itself from the wall to the side of them. Sam immediately thought of Ferus and tensed, ready to run, but as the figure stepped into the faint light of a bare weak bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling Sam saw that the stranger was small, a similar height to Weewalk, but less stocky. The figure spoke in a gruff voice.

‘Oose dere, ooo are ya?’

Weewalk spoke ‘Hödekin, is that you?’

‘Owd Hob?’ exclaimed the stranger and immediately bent to one knee.

‘Weewalk.’ said Weewalk sternly and the stranger rose sheepishly and came forward to grasp hands with him.

‘Sorry. Old habits.’

Sam could see that they were both kobolds but where Weewalk was thick set Hödekin was slim. Hödekin wore more common place clothing than his mine kobold cousin, but still the clothes looked as though they had been taken from a young boy. He wore a red cap firmly pulled down on his head. His round eyes peered out from under the peak.

‘Off to the Mermaid are ya?’ he said looking at them in turn ‘Well, you'll be welcome there sure enough. Jēran is taking in lots of folks at the moment, calling them all in, he is. Not safe for us no more. Riven are up to something. Yeren are prowling around. Yes, Jēran will see you safe at the Mermaid.’

‘But what are you doing here, old friend?’ asked Weewalk.

‘Jēran decided to post a guard, he did. Heard a rumour someone was coming through here. We take it in turns to watch the doors to the Mermaid. There are many paths to the Tavern.’

‘Here, let me introduce you to my friends.’ said Weewalk. ‘This is Hadan and Sam. This is Hödekin, a good friend of mine. A house kobold from the old days.’

Hödekin shook their hands, giving both of them a broad grin as he looked up into their faces.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘from the looks of you a hot bath and hot food is what is needed. Don’t let me keep you here.’

He turned to the archway and waved his hands. The line immediately sprang into life, sucking at what little light there was in the room. After giving their thanks they each stepped through the portal and away from the London Underground.

Arriving after Hadan, Sam found he had appeared in the middle of an enormous fireplace. Stretching apart his hands he could not touch the sides and he was able to walk out without ducking. He was thankful that no fire had been lit, it would have been the size of a bonfire, and he guessed that maybe that was one of the defences for this place. Surely no one, with the possible exception of Ferus, could use that line whilst a fire was burning here. The room he stepped into was empty of people, other than Hadan and Weewalk, and was not dissimilar from the old pub that his grandfather had sometimes taken him to back in the village at home. Sam turned on the spot, looking around. A long bar ran down the wall opposite the fireplace, dried hops hanging along its length. Latticed windows to one side allowed sunlight to creep across a deep red carpet. The room was full of tables and benches. The walls and ceiling were white with dark wooden beams set into them. Old iron weapons hung here and there and Sam saw a pair of crossed pikes on one wall and a spiked mace on another. A murmur of conversation came from a corridor to one side and mixed with the pleasant sound of tinkling water. Immediately Sam felt as though this was a place of safety and tranquillity.

‘Welcome to the Mermaid Tavern’ said Weewalk. ‘The owner is a man named Jēran. When you meet him, try not to stare at him. He’s a good man, and friendly, but he can get touchy about certain things. He's not someone to mess with so we'll be safe here for as long as we want.’

‘Is he on our side?’ asked Sam.

‘He's not on anyone's side.’ said Weewalk, ‘But he'll allow no trouble or harm for any of his guests.’

‘How can we pay him?’ said Sam, ‘I didn't bring any money.’

‘Let me worry about that.’ said Weewalk.

At that point a man entered the room. He was the biggest person Sam had ever seen. A giant. He barely fitted through the door behind the bar. He straightened up and looked at them, a slight scowl on his broad face. He held a glass in one enormous hand and he rubbed at it with a rag. He wore a dirty apron over rough brown clothes. He was bald but the forearms which stuck out of his sleeves were covered in thick black hair.

Weewalk spoke, looking smaller than ever before the huge man in front of him.

‘Hello Jēran. Do you have room for three?’

The man considered a moment, then gave a slow nod. He set the glass he had been wiping on a shelf above the bar and tucked the rag into the front of his apron. He raised a flap on the bar and strode out, stooping to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling and turning sideways to squeeze his huge frame through the opening. He walked past them towards the corridor giving Sam a hard look as he passed. Sam realised that he had been staring, his mouth slightly open, and he hurriedly swallowed and looked at Hadan who was also looking at him, but with a smirk. Jēran gave a jerk of his head, motioning them to follow him.

They entered a long wood-panelled corridor but turned straight away to a set of steep rickety stairs which groaned under Jēran's weight as they climbed. They came onto a twisted corridor, the floor sloped noticeably. Taking a bunch of keys from a pocket the giant unlocked a door and held it open for them to enter. As he passed Sam could not help but notice that his head did not even come up to the height of the huge arm that held open the door.

The room contained four single beds and other assorted mismatched wooden furniture. More latticed windows looked out onto a lush green garden where the sunlight of what seemed to be a warm summer's evening threw the shadow of large trees across a beautiful lawn. Jēran nodded at them and backed out of the doorway, closing the door behind him.

Weewalk immediately hopped onto a bed, his dirty boots hanging over the edge and sighed. ‘It’ll be good to sleep in a bed again.’ he said happily, bouncing up and down.

Sam pulled off his shoes and chose another of the beds.

‘Jēran doesn't say much does he?’

‘He hasn't spoken a single word since his wife died.’ said Weewalk, ‘They were closer than anyone you'll ever meet. He named the Tavern after her.’

‘The Mermaid?’ said Sam confused.

‘Yup,’ said Weewalk, ‘She loved our giant friend just as much as he loved her. One of the Nommo, she was. A Selkie. They say she was a beauty the like of which has never been seen.’

‘But she was a mermaid?’ said Sam, still trying to catch up.

‘She was a Nommo tribeswoman from Mu. But, yes, in essence that is a mermaid if you're talking about human mythology. I wouldn't mention her around our host, if you know what's good for you.’

Sam sank into a steaming hot bath up to his chin. It felt amazing. He hadn't felt clean in days. He'd let Weewalk and Hadan use the bathroom first so that he could have as long as he wanted in the hot water. A fresh set of clothes waited for him on the soft bed back in the room. He used his fingernails to scrub at the dirt on his legs and arms and he kneaded his tired muscles with his knuckles. He studied a number of blisters on his feet. It would be good to rest here for a while. The Tavern seemed so tranquil and friendly.

Eventually, he rose from the water, leaving it considerably dirtier than when he had entered it. He wrapped himself in a fluffy towel and forced a comb through his brown hair. He dressed and took the stairs down to the room with the giant fireplace. The smell of food filled the space and Weewalk and Hadan were tucking into large plates full of chicken and potatoes. A wicker basket of freshly baked bread was in the middle of the table and Sam took a piece as he sat down. It was delicious and still warm, the top coated in poppy seeds. A few minutes later Jēran placed a plate of chicken in front of him and Sam attacked it hungrily. Eventually sated he sat back happily, rubbing his stomach. The sun had set and the last rays of the evening light showed through the window.

None of them spoke. There was no need. They were all full and content. It wasn't long before they silently trooped upstairs, dropped into their beds and fell asleep.

For a week Sam, Weewalk and Hadan simply enjoyed good food, plenty of sleep and the sun in the gardens. It was a simple life but Sam felt incredibly content. He finally had time to take stock of what had happened, the death of his grandfather, the destruction of his house, the pursuit from Ferus, the fight with the garoul and the bizarre events in old London. He even thought about the beautiful girl in the painting that had hung in the house and how the fire had curled its edges and destroyed it. Sam and Weewalk talked more about his presence and Sam continued to try to make things move using the power of his mind. This was the only time when he felt unhappy. He was still unable to do so much as lift a feather and Weewalk's calm confidence made his failures all the harder to bear. Sam was trying for what seemed like the hundredth time to have some effect on a leaf which floated in the pool under the tinkling fountain in the central courtyard when Weewalk told him that he would meet someone new on the following day.

‘His name is Vallalar’, said Weewalk, watching the leaf for any sign of movement. ‘He’s particularly good at seeing potential in others. Hödekin told me that they’re expecting him to arrive tomorrow. He's been guarding another of the entrances for a while.’

‘It's no good, Weewalk.’ said Sam, ‘I still won't be able to do it.’

‘We'll see.’ said the kobold. ‘Let's leave it for today.’

Kya sat on a long bench, an empty plate before her on the pitted wooden table. She eyed the others in the room. An odd bunch. This clearly wasn't the most salubrious of places. Two shady figures were in deep conversation in one corner of the room. In another corner the hairiest person she had ever seen was hunched over a flagon of beer. She wasn't entirely sure he wasn't part Yowie.

A shadow fell over her plate and Kya looked up. A woman stood before her, long dark hair covering much of her face. The newcomer looked around at the others in the room warily.

‘Scusi, you are Kya?’ she asked quietly.

‘Depends who's asking.’ said Kya carefully.

The woman sat down opposite Kya. ‘My name is Eusapia. Aye ave a message from Jēran at the Mermaid Tavern. The boy you are looking for. Ee is there.’

‘How do I know I can trust you?’ asked Kya.

The woman looked around hurriedly. Satisfied that no-one was watching she extended a hand over the table between them. Her hand hovered above Kya's plate which, after a moment, span on the table then lifted into the air and hovered a couple of inches above the stained wooden plank.

‘You go. Find him.’ said Eusapia. The plate dropped back onto the tabletop with a thunk and Kya saw one of the shadowy men in the corner look over quickly.

‘Must go.’ said the woman and held out her hand again, but palm up. She nodded at Kya

Sighing Kya reached into a pocket and took out some Murian gold. She placed a single piece in the woman's hand.

Eusapia stood quickly and, with a last look around, drew her coat tightly around her and hurried from the room. Kya leaned back and stretched out her legs. So, he was at the Mermaid. She'd make the journey as soon as she could. Right now she had more pressing things to deal with. She was being followed.

Kya left the inn and stepped out onto the moonlit crossroads. She looked each direction and choosing one set off at a slow walk. She sent her presence behind her and sensed the man step out of the shadows of the stables and pad after her. She kept her eyes forward and tried to walk casually, which was surprisingly difficult once you began to concentrate upon it.

The path turned a corner into some trees and, as soon as she judged that she was out of the sight of her pursuer, Kya darted behind a large tree.

She did not have to wait long. The man crept between the trees on the opposite side of the road, even more cautious now that he had lost sight of his prey. Kya waited until he was level with her hiding place and then stepped out from behind the tree, simultaneously raising an arm and shaping her hand as if she were grasping a cup. The man froze, his back to a tree. His face began to flush, visible even in the pale moonlight.

Kya strode towards him. He was a weasely sort of man, with a pinched face and wide staring eyes. Kya had him by the throat and he was unable to move.

‘Why are you following me?’ she asked.

‘Not following.’ managed the man, struggling a little to breathe.

‘I'll ask again.’ said Kya ‘Why are you following me and who sent you?’