Part 2
Ferdinand was busy making a goat shelter for Winnie, with an open front but better enclosure. This was difficult work, as the region was in the grip of savage weather, even for winter. He had reflected on goats and had come to an important conclusion. Although he disliked goats after his experience, his dislike was more specific to the Billy Goats Gruff family than to goats in general. Winnie, who seemed to be quite happy again after the previous night’s scare, was eating hay and was generally affable. But the biting winds and cold were affecting even a mountain troll. Nevertheless, he liked practical days like this. He had tidied up the hen coop after the previous night’s massacre, secured some sturdy fences around the back and made sure Winnie had extra hay. It was all very satisfactory.
Then he saw a traveller approaching his bridge through the snow, still a distant figure, on a pony and making very slow progress. But etiquette demanded Ferdinand be ready for his arrival.
“Stop. You are on a troll bridge. You must pay a toll to pass. A piece of gossip or local news will suffice.”
The visitor was a small man, muffled against the cold. His nose was bright red, and he wore so many clothes that he could barely move.
“A toll…oh my…what if I tell you where I am going, would that serve as payment?”
Ferdinand thought, “It will if it’s news.”
“It is news,” the man said, nodding with difficulty because he was wearing four scarves. “I am Hector and I work for a publisher in Much Hattery. Our leading author is a local denizen of yours in Much Sleeping, Mr. H. Dumpty. He wrote to us asking for an immediate proof copy of his new book, ‘Dictionary – The Return’, and he is too important to ignore. “I am on my way to his house.”
Ferdinand nodded and chewed upon a carrot that he had grown himself and kept chilled (not currently difficult) by the cold beside his bridge.
“You may pass, traveller. But be careful: evening is soon upon us. You have an hour yet to reach the village, and the tracks in the forest will be covered in snow. Best stop at the gnome station in Little Bod and pay for a guide, or you will struggle.”
As he spoke, little flurries of snow began to fall once more, and Ferdinand began to wish Tegan and Sooty were home safely again.
“Good advice, troll,” the traveller replied. With a wave, he and his pony made their way over the bridge. Ferdinand watched him as he made his way into the trees and was filled with a strange feeling that all may not be well.
*
Even though they had left on time, pausing only for a pastry each from Billy Bob’s and a saucer of cream for Sooty, the canopy of trees had quickly reduced visibility by the time they reached the forest, and the air was bitingly cold. Both Tegan and Brokk were lost in their own thoughts. Beyond a few comments about the need to keep up a swift pace, little was said until they heard voices and saw two men holding lit torches.
Brokk drew his dagger and Tegan took a step behind him; they heard the barking of large dogs and Sooty put his head below the basket top.
There was the head of the Much Sleeping Watch, wearing his heavy sheepskin coat, with his three huge wolfhounds sniffing around a still figure lying on the ground. A pony was tethered to a tree and a small gnome by the name of Shiftie Clockman stood miserably nearby, filing his fingernails.
Tegan immediately went towards Shiftie, ignoring the glares from the Watch.
“Shiftie,”
“Miss Tegan…a sad day.”
“What happened, Shiftie? Tell me quickly, please.”
“Ah Miss I was at Little Bod gnome station, with no customers today until this traveller came along. He said he didn’t know the area and asked if I could walk in front of him and his pony to guide him safely to Mr. H. Dumpty’s home in Much Sleeping. An easy job for me, so I said yes.”
“Go on.”
“Okay, well, I was walking him along, and we were maybe only ten minutes or so from the safety of the village when I heard a thud and saw the poor man had fallen off his horse. I tried to rouse him but found him quite dead. Then, moments later, the Watch arrived with the dogs, and we’ve been here for maybe half an hour.”
“We’ll try and get you home.” She pulled the Red Queen’s badge from her pocket and attached it to her winter cloak. “Come to my cottage tomorrow morning, Shiftie. I’d like to talk to you.”
The gnome looked terrified, “absolutely not Miss I can’t be seen with you now.”
“But Shiftie,”
“No Miss, I don’t even know you really, and I’m not taking the risk.” Then he looked sadly at her. “All I will say is that whatever you are thinking when you get home will not be without validity.”
She shrugged and moved to join Brokk as he looked at the body with the Watch looking on.
“Tragic accident,” the head of the Watch said. “We are getting the body removed for burial tomorrow.”
Brokk was inspecting the man’s head. The dogs were growling and slavering nearby.
“Nasty scratch that dog has on his hind legs… Huge dogs, too. Wolfhounds, I’d say.”
“You’d say right. And don’t worry about him, got caught in the brambles.”
“Hmm…” Brokk looked towards Tegan. “I’d have sworn it looked more like a cat scratch myself, but it’s hard to tell in this light. An accident, you say?”
“Obviously. He should never have been travelling in this weather.”
“Was he carrying anything? Any bags?”
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“His underwear and change of clothing, nothing more.”
“What do you make of this massive blood patch on the back of his skull? Looks like a rock hit him.”
“Rocks here below the snow. It’s the fall that killed him.”
“A fall off a pony?”
“That’s what I said. Boys take the body away.”
Brokk was scowling. “You got here remarkably quickly. A suspicious man might think you were already here.”
The head of the Watch took a small earthenware jar and muttered, “We were on forest patrol,” before drinking some carrot and coriander soup.
“I’m glad,” said Brokk, “that you have your priorities right.”
“There’s always time for my sisters’ soup.”
Tegan gasped. “Your sister is Miss Perpetua of the Soup Emporium?”
“Yes. And my brother-in-law is Osric the tavern-keeper, Elspeth his wife is my other sister. My family are important people in Much Sleeping, Osric, for example, is a cousin of the Diarist.”
The two men assisting the Watch placed the dead body of the traveller over the pony and began to make off for the village.
“Now go home” said the head of the Watch, “and I’d stay indoors if I was you. You gnome, get gone.”
Shiftie made to go, giving Tegan a small wave as he did so, but he looked sad and dispirited.
“Accident, my arse,” muttered Brokk. He and Tegan walked off into the forest as darkness fell fast.
*
After a mercifully quiet night, the cottage woke early to find that the weather had, if anything, worsened. Any attempt to walk toward Much Sleeping today would be foolhardy in the extreme. Tegan decided on a day of reading combined with a cottage conference where they could all share their news and observations. This appeared to disappoint Brokk, who strongly voiced the opinion that his presence in the tavern again would be very useful to the investigation. Tegan overruled him.
Thus, by mid-morning, while the blizzard raged outside, the cottage fires were roaring with chopped wood and coals. Warm drinks were on the table, Sooty was on the rug with some treats, Ferdinand was once more crammed into the doorway holding one of Tegan’s homemade leek and potato soups, and Tegan and Brokk were sitting around the table. Each of them shared their accounts of the events of yesterday. Ferdinand’s account was sparse but accurate. Tegan’s was detailed and thoughtful, and surprisingly positive in its assessment of Mr. Dumpty. Brokk was very talkative, giving a lengthy explanation of why Gwendoline had beautiful hands and why she was the most intelligent and lovely character. He also felt strongly that the unfortunate Hector had been murdered. Ferdinand substantiated that Hector had been in possession of a proof copy of the new Dictionary.
Sooty said little. He was washing himself by the fire, sorting out some tangles in the fur on his rear leg. Mr. Incy Wincey felt small, as anyone would in a room where a troll was standing.
Silence fell as they all slipped into reverie.
“Okay.” Tegan put another log on the fire. “We are running out of days, but I’m okay with a day of thinking. I’d prefer to go in when we know who we want… Tell me who your instinct says is to blame. Ferdinand first.”
“The diarist did it.”
“The evidence, Ferdinand?”
“Her daughter was sacked at the soup factory. Dumpty’s comments on soup have caused the soup business to do less well, she’s related to them in a way I have already forgotten. They hate the egg and she’s a nasty piece of work.”
“Possibly… There are parts of that I’m thinking about, too.”
“I’ve solved it?”
“Well…you have good instincts Ferdinand.”
Ferdinand’s face shone with pleasure.
“Brokk?”
“The innkeeper did it. I want to run him in.”
“The innkeeper? Your evidence, Brokk?”
“He’s a violent, aggressive man. He has family connections to the soup lady, the diarist and the watch. I don’t think he’s loyal to the Red Queen. I think he has misplaced loyalty to the old Regent. I think he is in league with the Watch. He did it.”
“Hmm…Brokk, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” The dwarf nodded and helped himself to another drink (not the tea).
“Two things. What happened to the Regent? And are you sweet on that girl at the tavern? I’m okay if you are, but it complicates things a little.”
Brokk flushed with embarrassment.
“I can’t be sweet on her Miss, she’s not dwarf. We dwarves all have arranged matches, and my mother will be looking for mine as soon as I turn 40. My mum is proud of me; I’m not bringing shame upon her. I can’t take that role away from her… As for the other matter, When the old queen died of the sweating fever, her daughter Alice was only seven, so her aunt became Regent under the title of Queen of Hearts. But power corrupted her, and she became psychotic, insane, madder than the Hatter who is barking. Under orders from Alice, we dwarves arrested her and took her to Lundy Isle where she remains, locked up and insane. Alice took the title of Red Queen aged fourteen.”
“You dwarves never served the Regent?”
“Not part of our contract, we serve the Red Queen only.”
“And when the Regent was in charge?”
“She couldn’t use us. She used paid mercenaries from the Welsh. We protected the true leader.”
Tegan nodded. “Sooty?”
“Meow.”
“What did Sooty say?” Ferdinand asked.
“Sooty says it’s all about soup. All he ever hears is soup, and all he wants to hear is cream.”
A silence fell over the cottage once more.
Tegan broke the silence first. “Brokk, what happens when we make an arrest? Do we have to hand control to the Watch?”
“No. Whoever we arrest, I take to the Red Queen for judgement… And who do you think did it?”
“I’m not sure. I need to milk Winnie, read a book and talk to Mr. Incy Wincey. I will tell you all later. For now, Ferdinand, take some more warm soup back to your bridge. Brokk, please go outside when you smoke your pipe. Sooty, stop asking Brokk for food, you will become a fat cat and less attractive to the ladies. I need to think.”
*
Several hours later, Tegan and Brokk sat back down around the table. Ferdinand could be seen cooking a rabbit stew under his bridge, and the weather was sufficiently cold that Tegan did not want to make the walk down to him. Sooty, beyond venturing outside for bathroom duties, had remained by the fire.
“Brokk.”
“Miss”
“As you have met her, tell me something about the Red Queen that I don’t know.”
Brokk raised an eyebrow but gave his usual gruff response:
“She plays guitar and can give the impression of being inattentive and inexperienced. But remember, she grabbed control at 14, and she has her finger on the pulse, I’d say. She’s well read and I’d say it would be a mistake to fall out with her…Why?”
Silence…
“My father works for her. He’s quite important, but that is between us. I’ve never actually met him, forgive a girl’s curiosity. And on a more pressing matter, I have been thinking while doing the chores… Was Mr. Dumpty pushed?”
“You have come to a similar conclusion to me. No, I don’t think he was. But I don’t think he simply fell randomly, either. I want to know where the soup was that he had delivered, who took it away and why.”
“Exactly…Sooty set me thinking with his soup comment. Soup does indeed seem to have its paws all over this mystery. I believe…”
But at that point, an awful banging was heard at the door: hammering and a cry… When Tegan opened it, an extremely distressed Shiftie was standing there, highly agitated.
“Shiftie, what’s wrong? What an awful day to choose to come.”
“Miss, Miss, you must come! They’ve arrested Barnaby. They have him in the cart to take him to Lundy Isle Prison. Please come now, Miss, or he will be gone. Nine children, Miss… They’ll starve.”
“Who is Barnaby, and who is arresting him? And where?”
“It’s the head of the watch Miss and all four of his men, and they are at the Little Bod gnome station. Please come now Miss, really urgent, and bring the dwarf as they may not listen to you.”
Brokk hauled himself up and collected his weapons, fastening his shoulder armour and helmet, too.
“Meow,”
“What did he say?”
“Oh, ignore Sooty. He’s saying he doesn’t want to come because the snow plays havoc with his paws. That’s fine Sooty, watch the house for me and get to Ferdinand if there’s any trouble. Okay Shiftie, lead the way.”
*
When they reached Little Bod station, the scene in front of them was not a welcoming one.
A gnome was inside a prison cart with one member of the watch, a young man from the village who looked surly and had a pulled down cap, pulling him along with a pony. The track was so covered in snow that progress was virtually nil.
The gnome himself was crying and waving to nine even smaller gnomes, who were all cuddling one another and shouting, “Daddy!”
Two other members of the watch were beside the gnome station, they had four huge wolfhounds with them, growling and standing as if ready to attack.
The head of the Watch, clearly in control, was certainly not pleased to see Tegan or Brokk.
“You can go home, Brokk. I have arrested the culprit. Your investigation is concluded. For God’s sake, you idiot, get this cart away.”
Tegan positioned herself on the track in front of the cart, a gesture that made the dogs bark at her. Her hair had turned a deep blue and little sparks crackled around her.
“Simeon,” she said, naming the head of the Much Sleeping Watch, “what evidence do you have for the arrest? And tell me, as we are here on the authority of the Red Queen.”
“I know,” he snarled like one of his dogs. “Since you ask, while you have been at home, I have been investigating and have reached my conclusions. This gnome, Barnaby of Little Bod, hairdresser and wig-maker, presented a soup to Mr. H. Dumpty on the day in question. While Dumpty was distracted, the gnome slipped behind him and pushed him off the wall, calling out that Dumpty had been pushed to distract from his own involvement.”
“But the gnome is small, and the wall is tall. What motive did he have?”
“Motive…” He paused. “He’s an evil little runt. And he was carrying a collapsible ladder.”
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t,” cried the gnome. “I carried the soup from Miss Perpetua’s as asked, I’m not evil, I make wigs.”
“SHUT UP!” cried Simeon. “You shut your mouth or I will shut it for you. He bought the soup.”
“Did not…” whimpered the gnome.
“Let him go,” said Tegan. “I need to interview him, stand your men down and return to Much Sleeping.”
The two watch members by the station began to move toward Tegan, dogs poised next to them. Brokk stood between them and her.
“Now, now… play nicely. Do as the good lady says or I’ll fillet the two of you—and the dogs as well, Watch members or no.”
Simeon gave a half-smile.
“Stand down, men. Release the gnome. I’m sending a report to the Red Queen, noting your obstruction and interference with the Watch. You are potentially allowing a key suspect to escape, if he does that is on your head.”
With a snap of his fingers, the head of the Watch, his dogs and his men made their way back along the path towards Much Sleeping. The lad with the pony and prison cart released Barnaby and followed them.
The little gnome collapsed on the ground, shivering with cold and fear. His children ran up and all held him.
“Barnaby.” Tegan spoke firmly.
He looked at her with scared eyes.
“Barnaby, answer these two questions truthfully, and then you can go home… Firstly, why did you take the soup to Mr. Dumpty, and why did you shout that he was pushed when we know he fell? Secondly, what happened to the soup?”
The gnome looked crestfallen.
“I’ve been struggling Miss. Not much demand for wigs right now and nine little ones to feed. I was passing Miss Perpetua’s on my way to the gnome hiring station when I was called over and offered a silver coin. It’s Miss Perpetua, she hands me the soup and says I must tell no one but take it and hand it to Mr. Dumpty as a present, then if he falls, I must shout that he’s been pushed.”
Brokk shook his head,
“That sounds like a crime to me, I might not have released you.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I never really did anything. I never realised it was harmful. And the soup Miss, when the Watch came, they took it away.”
“I’ll bet they did.”
Tegan turned to Brokk,
“I’m sick of this. Two interviews tomorrow and we close this down.”
*
The next morning proved to be a lot calmer. A winter sun shone down on the county, and the crows came down from the branches to eat the donations of bread and food scraps.
Ferdinand had been put in charge of cottage security, and Tegan was once more outside Mr. Dumpty’s house, with Sooty in his basket, looking very alert for a change. Brokk had headed to the tavern where she had agreed to meet him within the hour.
One of the women who worked for Dumpty showed them into the living room again, and Tegan settled down in the armchair to await the arrival of the verbose egg.
Sooty made a great show of stretching and then sauntered over, tail up, to say hello to Tabby, who was again in her hammock beside the fire. Sooty noticed that she seemed to have her own exclusive, enclosed indoor toilet facility, with little curtains at the front, brought all the way from Much Hattery. He was rather impressed and would have to talk to his human about it later. He had to rely on the woods when he needed to go, which was very unsatisfactory and cold in comparison. The two touched noses and then settled down to watch each other for a while, as is the way with cats.
All was quiet for a few minutes. Then Mr. Dumpty came in with a flourish, wearing his dressing gown and designer pyjama set, made by an exclusive tailor in Pity Me.
“Ah, Tegan! Splendid. You have penetrated the perimeter of my domicile. Salutations and a most rigorous welcome to you!”
“Hello again Mr. Dumpty.”
“Meow,” said Sooty.
“And you have brought the shadow-coated quadruped himself. Sooty, greetings. I trust your current physiological state is optimal?
“Meow,” said Sooty.
Tegan raised an eyebrow. “Sooty, manners.”
“I’m sorry to bother you again, sir. I have a couple of urgent questions before I move towards an arrest. Firstly, and a simple yes or no will suffice as an answer, are you certain you were pushed?”
“Regarding that catastrophic plunge—the precise physics of my descent remain wrapped in an obstinate epistemic fog. I cannot categorically affirm that I was propelled by an external force. However, local auditory reports—specifically, a series of panicked vocalizations from a gnome—insisted that I had been victimized by a malicious shove.”
He rang his little bell and requested tea and a jam tart. He offered nothing to Tegan or Sooty. Tabby was also brought some delicate cat treats, imported from Wales, on a little tray. Sooty decided he would have severe words with his human once back home.
Tegan waited for him to compose himself and cast a glance at an annoyed Sooty.
“Okay, that confirms my thinking. Secondly, are you absolutely sure you never asked your publishers for a proof copy of your new book? And do you happen to have a draft copy of it in your house? A simple yes or no response will suffice.”
“Let the record reflect that I issued no directive for a preliminary manuscript or a draft copy. The atmospheric conditions outside are utterly deplorable—tempestuous, in fact, and I am not so entirely devoid of basic human empathy as to demand anyone navigate such treacherous meteorological hostility on my account. And, furthermore, your hypotheses regarding my filing system are correct: I do indeed possess a transcribed note-based duplicate in my drawer here.”
He handed Tegan the copy while he busied himself with the tarts. Tegan looked at the slightly battered notebook, which was filled with definitions applied and updated from the first edition, alongside a dictionary extension in which every definition now had a sentence placing the word in context. There were three entries she wanted to see:
Diarist (noun): A practitioner of literary exhibitionism; one who mistakes the mundane minutiae of their daily existence for historical imperative.
Contextual Sentence:
“The modern diarist, entirely devoid of both discretion and distinct talent, insists on exposing the tedious underbelly of their private thoughts to an unvarnished public, seemingly oblivious to the collective yawn of a deeply indifferent populace.”
The Watch (noun): A sanctioned assembly of professionally confused individuals tasked with wandering the thoroughfares with their dogs, blowing whistles, and arriving at the scene of a transgression precisely long enough after its conclusion to ensure the culprit’s clean escape.
Contextual Sentence:
“When the grand larceny occurred, The Watch deployed their finest investigative minds, who proceeded to scrutinize the footprints with such bumbling, short-sighted intensity that they inadvertently obliterated every shred of evidence, thereby ensuring the crime would remain an eternal, unsolvable enigma.”
Soup (noun): An uninspired, hydrous concoction of indeterminate ingredients, masquerading as a meal through the desperate employment of a spoon; culinary puddle-water.
Contextual Sentence:
“When presented with a bowl of tepid soup, the discerning gentleman cannot help but wonder if the chef simply lacked the patience to cook a solid meal, or if he was merely attempting to drown a perfectly innocent vegetable in an excess of salted water.”
“Okay…” Tegan handed the manuscript back, as she had what she needed.
“Meow”
“Words, words, words, Sooty; not now, please.”
She was aware of Mr. Dumpty watching her.
“I have all the information I need and thank you for your time. Be careful.”
He rang his little bell and smiled at her over his tea, A mercifully brief exchange of pleasantries saw her once more outside in the street, with Sooty back in his basket.
“Meow”
“Not now Sooty. I need Brokk, let’s close this down.”
*
Tegan and Sooty entered The Hungry Fox, noting that the Security Goose appeared to be napping. As they entered, it quickly became apparent that the tavern was very busy, with people taking advantage of the better weather to come out and eat a fine piece of the inn’s pie or some soup. The Watch was gathered in one alcove, chatting and laughing, with their dogs on the floor chewing heavy bones. Miss Perpetua was at the bar with a lunchtime drink, and Osric was glowering towards Gwendoline, who was sitting opposite Brokk, showing him her sketches. Tegan looked at a young, waif-like woman dressed in somewhat shabby barmaid’s clothes. Brokk’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her.
“Hello, Brokk. I’m guessing this is Gwyn?”
“Yes, it is. Look at her sketches of clothing… Isn’t she talented?”
The sketches were very nice, colours and designs of a surprisingly high standard.
“These are lovely, Gwyn, but unfortunately I need some time with Brokk. However”—she looked around the tavern—“please tell Simeon and Miss Perpetua to join Brokk and me here. Tell them it is not a request. And as for you…” She directed the last remark towards the shadows, where a shape was sitting. “You can stay there unless needed.”
Brokk drank his ale and waited, one hand resting on a weapon. Sooty came out of his basket and stretched out on the table. He yawned but kept a close eye on the dogs. With dark looks and mutterings, Miss Perpetua (an elderly, bird-like lady with glasses and a pipe) and Simeon pulled up chairs and settled opposite them.
Tegan’s hair turned blue.
“The effrontery” Miss Perpetua looked at Tegan and Brokk. “Simeon tell them.”
“Sit down,” Brokk said. “And be pleased this is a private conversation.”
“I’m listening,” Simeon said. “It had better be good.”
Tegan took a deep breath and looked at both of them. Sooty moved to sit on her knee.
“It’s all about words,” she said quietly but clearly. “You have a profitable Soup Emporium, but the dictionary definition of soup caused a downturn in trade. So, you wrote and threatened Mr. Dumpty, a warning shot to end his writing.”
“Wrong, dearie. I’m illiterate. Get your facts right.”
“Ah… then it was you,” Tegan said, addressing the shadow of the Diarist. “Your relative, the Diarist, wrote the threat, but you had deeper plans. You had some form of meeting with your brother here, and you made a special soup for Mr. Dumpty. Tomato, wasn’t it? You added an extra ingredient, not quite sure what, but I suspect Foxglove.”
“Well, you’d know, dearie. Only one witch here, been making free with the herbs, have we?”
Tegan half smiled. “That isn’t supported by the witness. Let me read you the witness statement: I was passing Miss Perpetua’s on my way to the gnome hiring station when I was called over and offered a silver coin. It’s Miss Perpetua, she hands me the soup and says I must tell no one but take it and hand it to Mr. Dumpty as a present, then if he falls, I must shout that he’s been pushed.”
There was no reply, so Tegan pressed on.
“But the intent was to kill him, wasn’t it, and to pass it off as a fall? However, it went wrong because Dumpty dislikes soup. He barely has more than a teaspoon of it, but it’s enough to make him dizzy, and he falls. Luck then comes into play, and his fall is broken by the snow gnome. Then we have the missing soup. It disappears. An example of the Watch covering its tracks, I presume.”
Simeon pulled a knife from his belt and drove it into the table,
“You are moving into dangerous territory.”
“Maybe. But let’s go there, shall we? None of you wanted Dumpty to release his new dictionary with contexts, but you also needed to see how bad it was. His publisher is well known, and I would now say that we all know who wrote a letter pretending to be Dumpty, asking for the proof copy to be brought through immediately. This went against Dumpty’s own wishes. I will at this point pass to Brokk.”
Brokk pulled the dagger from the table. “A mere toy.” He looked directly at Simeon.
“That poor man with his pony. We have a witness who saw him carrying the proof copy. And then after the fall he wasn’t. I think you all knew he was on his way and had been waiting for him. The theft was planned; his death probably wasn’t. But you and your local goons are responsible.”
An awkward silence fell around the table. Miss Perpetua broke it.
“He is a very bad egg indeed. All my life I have built my business, employed local people and made my soup the best anywhere in the four counties. Then that egg attacked me and undermined everything I had achieved. And my brother has status and a worthy position, the egg ridicules him and his status. His sanctimonious, irritating superiority presents his definitions as more important than the flowing prose of a talented diarist. He deserved it.”
“But…”
All eyes returned to Miss Perpetua, “I really don’t see how you completely prove it.”
“And,” her brother said with a hard glint in his eye, “you must continue living here. Allegiance to the Red Queen or not.”
“Meow.”
“What did Sooty say?” asked Brokk.
“Sooty said he told us all along, and he wants better toilet facilities as a reward for solving it.”
Brokk and Tegan looked at each other, both silently asking what came next.
*
“I suppose,” Tegan said after a long pause, “that we could take the same route you gave poor Barnaby the gnome. We could get the three of you—and I do mean the three of you—into the cart and take you off to Lundy Isle with as much compassion as you showed to Barnaby.”
“You could try,” snarled Simeon, but there was a slight stammer in his voice.
“We could try,” said Brokk. “And your men would do nothing to stop me, I assure you. “Just say the word.”
There was a long pause, during which Brokk downed his ale and cracked his knuckles.
“However,” Tegan interrupted, “as you point out, we all live here, and the festival season is almost upon us. We should be getting the ash logs ready, lighting our homes with joy and telling stories on winter nights. But it isn’t right what has happened. Poor Hector; and I wonder if he has left a family, people who even now expect him home. I feel this village owes his family a substantial winter payment to help them through the difficult times ahead. I’d recommend that the donation should be largely met by the Soup Emporium.”
Miss Perpetua’s face was stony, but colour was slowly returning to it after the fear of Lundy Isle.
“I’m sure that can be arranged” she muttered.
“And the Watch… is responsible for keeping Mr. H. Dumpty safe. I expect you, Simeon, as head of the Watch, to go and see him and tell him nicely that you guarantee his safety. The Red Queen will be informed in my report that you are personally guaranteeing his ongoing safety. My report to the Red Queen will also recommend that two Royal Watching Gnomes are posted to the village for six months to ensure that things are okay and that no further threats are made. His new Dictionary will be published successfully with no one moving against it again. Words have value. Lastly”—she paused and leant back so the shadows could hear—“I will tell the Red Queen that nothing critical of her government will be posted on this matter in this most loyal of villages. Have we agreement?”
Miss Perpetua and her brother both nodded and murmured their agreement, although they were still looking daggers at Tegan and Brokk. They began to get up.
“I expect everything I have outlined to be completed by the festival. You can send me evidence of payment and of the visit, and I will record both.”
They left the table, with Miss Perpetua visibly shaken and struggling to walk without assistance.
“Come on, Brokk. Come on, Sooty. Home, all of us. I will write the report for you to take tonight, Brokk.” She passed him a gold coin. “But get a pony from the stables, Brokk. It will help you in this weather.”
But Tegan noticed the sadness in Brokk’s eyes as they began to leave. Gwyn was clutching the bar front, and there was a tear in her eye.
“A moment.” Tegan walked over to the innkeeper and placed a gold coin on the bar. He eyed it with lascivious greed.
“Osric, I’m thinking that Gwyn could be better employed travelling back with Brokk to the Red Queen. I know the Red Queen would love to see her dress designs. And we should not stand in the Queen’s way. This coin compensates you for the trouble of finding new staff. That is, as long as it sounds like something you’d like, Gwyn?”
“Oh yes, Miss.” The girl’s face shone with delight. “That would suit me very well.”
“That’s settled, then.” She pushed the coin towards Osric, who took it with a grunt. And they were on their way.
*
It was the day before the festival, and the palace was filled with all manner of jugglers, acrobats, storytellers and jesters who had come from all over the four counties. The smell of food wafted from the kitchen, and the feasting table was being set up, with a dais placed for Alice, the Red Queen, to watch the events. Outside, 500 heavily armed dwarves were marching in formation, getting ready to change over at the end of the month as the new guard arrived.
Alice, the Red Queen, sat on a window ledge, watching the world go by. She liked to watch the crows on the lawns eating the nuts she had put out for them, and she would spot the tracks left by hedgehogs as they shuffled by. She sighed. She had read the report from Tegan Spades and knew that as much had been left out as had been put in, but that was always the way.
She looked down at the face of a somewhat scruffy village girl in her early twenties, who gazed up at her in awe. Then she glanced at Brokk Stoutguzzler, who looked upon the girl with such pride.
Brokk… Alice liked Brokk. It was no accident she had sent him on this job. She might be all-powerful now, but once she had been a little girl who fell into a pond before she could swim. It was one of her guards, Brokk, who had pulled her out. And when she took power and had the psychotic Regent committed to Lundy, it was Brokk and a small detachment of her dwarves who made it happen before anyone realised.
She lounged, because as a child she had been constantly told to sit up straight.
“Gwendoline, I believe?”
“Yes, ma’am. Yes, Your Red Queen, ma’am.”
“I am letting you stay. But you can’t look like that. Go and find my hairdresser and have a new outfit put on my account. Then find my dressmaker and tell her you are to work as a designer in her department. Run along now.”
She flicked a hand, but watched the look exchanged between Brokk and the girl.
“Brokk.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Is Much Sleeping a concern to me?”
“It could have been my lady, but not now.”
“Arrange the two Royal Watching Gnomes, please.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“And Brokk, I think I need you here for a little longer. It’s a slight break in protocol, but I’m promoting you to run a small unit that can deliver Royal Justice to the smaller villages. I need more presence there, so the people know I am not so far away.”
“Inspired my lady.”
“Maybe. I’m sure you can find something to occupy yourself here a little longer!”
She got up and headed down one of the palace cloisters. As soon as she had got up three Dwarven guards had snapped to attention and followed her at a discreet distance, there was also a small crowd of people waving petitions that they wanted her to look at. But inside, and for a short time, she was alone, and that was the way she often liked it.
*
On the night before the festival, Tegan had two braziers of ash wood burning outside her cottage. Ferdinand stood with her watching the fires burn.
“He was okay for a dwarf.”
“Oh Brokk, yes he was.”
“It was the Diarist, then.”
“At least for part of it, Ferdinand, yes. You were right.”
The troll nodded sagely, “sometimes you just know.”
“Meow,”
“What is Sooty saying?”
“Oh, he likes the warmth from the fires, and he’s happy because I have ordered him an indoor, curtained bathroom from Much Hattery. That leprechaun gold, if I use it very carefully, can do a few things for us all. Anything you need Ferdinand?”
The troll mused for a moment.
“I’ll be planting my carrots and pak choi in a few months, a new spade would be helpful.”
She smiled. “Consider it done. Happy Winter Festival, everyone!”
She went inside and gave Mr. Incy Wincey a big smile. The weather was settling, and so was life. She had those around her whom she cared for, and on her next trip to the village she would get some new hens. It was then that she noticed a little card pushed under her door. It was an invitation card, very smart,
“Miss Tegan, you are cordially invited to a tea party with the Hatter to celebrate the launch of The Return of the Dictionary. RSVP.”
“Meow.”
“Indeed, very curious. No address?”
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