The Princelings of the East Books 4-6

Contents

Chapter 1: Time for change

Chapter 2: Credit where it’s due

Chapter 3: Under suspicion

Chapter 4: A Stitch in Time

Chapter 5: Work In Progress

Chapter 6: Mountains and Lakes

Chapter 7: Tricks and Treats

Chapter 8: Time and Again

Chapter 9: No Place like Home

Chapter 10: Ladies and Gentlemen

Chapter 11: Catching more than fish

Chapter 12: Hit and Miss

Chapter 13: Unlucky for some

Chapter 14: Who’s Who

Chapter 15: Hattan

Chapter 1: Time for change



It was a long steamy August day, and I was stretched out on the silk sheet that the Rajah had given me in India to seal our agreement on the rights to produce Wozna Cola over there. It was cool in my apartment, well, if you could call anything cool with the dial topping 100 outside. The water dripped over the stones just like the Rajah’d showed me, and I felt a slight shift in the air as someone entered through the fly screen.

My lord, came a squeaky voice that I knew would be Squeak. We called him that for obvious reasons, and however hard he tried to change his voice, it still came out as a squeak. I beckoned him over. There’s something strange in the courtyard, sire, he said.

I didn’t much like being called sire. It seemed to hark back to the olden days of knights and things. I thought we were past all that, here in the great city of Hattan with its shining towers and modern technology that had made my dad’s fortune. Mine too, come to think of it. I stretched a little and said What in a lazy sort of way.

You’d better come and see, sire, was all he said.

I frowned but decided Squeak knew better than to disturb me on this sort of day, at this sort of hour, for no reason. I got to my feet and went to the doorway. I paused and looked out to give my eyes a chance to adapt to the glare outside. I could feel the floor humming beneath my feet, a sign that the production line was in full swing. The great thing about these kinds of days was that everyone would be gasping for a nice cool Wozna when they finished work, and if they couldn’t get the real one, they could go for the new diet kind. Wozna Diet was the New Thing in Town. All the Hattanites wanted it, and we were at full stretch to supply them.

I stepped out through the screen and saw people sort of hanging around in the yard. A few of them stopped lounging as I came out of the shadows; a few stood back from the far wall that Squeak was leading me to, to let me pass, and then crowded in behind me, hoping to overhear anything I said.

The professor was standing next to the wall, gesturing at it and muttering under his breath. He was a brilliant person to be sure, but on another planet sometimes. Had he flipped? Was that the problem?

Ah, Lord Mariusz, he said, I felt it was best we should call you, alert you to this manifestation. Please accept my apologies for disturbing your rest.

I nodded. He was a bright guy, but sometimes it took a while to get through to the meaning of what he wanted to tell you. What exactly was a ‘manifestation’? I knew better than to ask as the meaning would become clearer quicker if I said nothing. He stopped waving his hands about and stepped back. A hole had appeared in the wall, an entrance hole, neatly lined with an arch of bricks as if it had always been part of the structure. It hadn’t been there the last time I’d walked past. I could guarantee it hadn’t been there, not that I hadn’t seen it.

This arch appears to have appeared in the wall overnight, said the professor.

I nodded, chewing my lip. That certainly summed up the situation all right. I stepped forward and took a look inside. There was a little string of blue-white twinkly lights like a ribbon round the tunnel about six feet inside, and beyond that it was dark. I stepped back.

What is it? I asked.

Um, I’m sorry to say I have no idea, stammered the professor, nor do I know how it got there.

Like yesterday it wasn’t there and today it is? I asked, looking around at the others. Who first saw it and when?

One of the guards shuffled forward. He was an apology for a guard really, brown and weedy looking, like one of my nephews twice removed that had to be given a job somewhere to stop his mother scrounging off me.

Well? I asked, not expecting much coherence in his reply. I wasn’t disappointed. It had been there at dawn when he came on his shift. No one had seen it arrive. It hadn’t been there last night.

I spoke to the duty officer and made sure that a search for strangers was carried out, including the process plant. We couldn’t afford industrial espionage, nor could we let strangers wander around our castle. I told the professor to check over every inch of the plant to make sure that sabotage had not been attempted. He looked shocked. The world was a benign place to Saku—the world he lived in anyway, the benevolence stemming mainly from me.

Back in the relative cool of my apartment I mulled over the tunnel, if that was what it was. Where had it come from and where did it lead to? I sent for one of my trusted aides, a sturdy guy named Willow, veteran of many of our campaigns that are best kept quiet. He slid in as if he’d been waiting for the call.

Yes, boss? was all he said.

I was inclined to send him down the tunnel to find where it led, but I was equally intrigued and wanted to have a bit of adventure myself. I’d been sorting cola production and sales for too long this year; it would do me good to have a change of scene.

Does this tunnel come out somewhere else in the castle?

He shook his head. I looked all over, Boss. I knew I could trust him to have looked already. Some of my guys would tell you anything they thought you wanted to hear. You could always tell. They didn’t last long, even when they were second cousins.

I wandered over to the window and looked out at the shimmering city below, the rivers in the distance like golden mirrors in the sunlight. Send Willow or go myself? Let’s just test it, I thought.

Ok, I said, turning back to the cool of the room and picking up a can of Wozna. I want you to go through the tunnel and find out where it comes out. If it takes longer than an hour to come out anywhere, come back. I’ll expect you back here within two hours. No search party.

He nodded and left. It was good to know you had some people like that, no questions, just action, with enough brain to use a little initiative but not too much.

I returned to the silk sheet and sipped my Wozna. Two hours would fly by.

There was a knock at the entrance. What now, I thought, but called them in anyway. Willow walked in. Unlike him to have questions on a simple assignment, I thought.

Urr, what? I asked.

I went, I came back. The tunnel was still a tunnel after an hour, Willow replied.

Whada’ya mean? I asked. You only just left!

Willow looked at me.

I thought I got some odd looks as I walked across the yard, he said, which was the longest sentence I’d heard from him in years. I went in, it all went strange. I kept walking, it was a dark tunnel. I came back.

How strange?

Sort of lights, whooshing, feeling light, then dark tunnel, solid ground again.

He stood there solidly, matter-of-fact, steady as always. Like I said, it’s good to know you have people like him. He’d not been away more than a minute, but he’d been away two hours. How long could you be away and still be back a minute later? It was almost like time travel. I had to have a piece of this!

I thought for a few minutes. There was nothing I needed to do in the next few days. If I went away for however long it took to find the end of the tunnel I might still be back a minute later. Even if two hours meant one minute and twenty hours meant ten minutes I could still be away for days and nothing important would happen here in my absence.

I waved Willow over to the seat by the water fountain and called an aide.

Get me provisions for a two-day journey including negotiables and water. Now, I added. I checked myself over in a mirror. A dark face looked back at me with black brooding eyes. A regal countenance. Black hair with a distinguished white flash. A fit guy, well built, looked like he could handle trouble. Smart black coat, with a nifty white stripe on the side and over the back that went into a snazzy Zorro mark. One black foot, one white, nails neatly trimmed. Well groomed with a touch of class. Yeah, presentable for any occasion, I thought.

I’m going to take a look, I said to Willow. If I’m not back in half an hour you follow me. With luck I won’t be more than three days ahead of you, wherever we’re going, and you should be able to pick up my trail. Okay?

He nodded. Good ol’ reliable.

The aide came back with my provisions. I stepped out into the midday heat, crossed over to the archway, and entered the cool of the tunnel. I turned and looked at my subjects looking at me.

Be back in a few minutes, I said, turned again and walked forward towards the string of lights.

Chapter 2: Credit where it’s due



There were lights ahead, but not many. The journey down the tunnel had seemed endless, even though I was using scout’s pace—seven paces walking, seven paces jogging. I had plenty of time to ask myself whether I was on a fool’s errand, and plenty of time to speculate on the nature of the place. Once I was out of the whooshing area I had joined what seemed like an ordinary enough tunnel. I’d picked the direction where the air felt better and set off, but I’d met no one on the journey, seen no sign of life or traffic. I’d told myself that if I wanted to sleep I could but if I did, I might as well turn back when I woke as there was clearly nothing worth finding here. But there still was the strange business of the time ‘here’ and the time in Hattan. The only chance I had of solving that little puzzle would be when I got back.

Where was ‘here’? I was going to find out soon enough, as those lights up ahead surely signaled some sort of settlement. I slowed down and found myself at the end of the tunnel at last. It was dark, so not easy to tell the difference between the end of tunnel and wherever I was, but there was a feeling of space above and of a general opening out into some sort of marketplace. Most stalls were packed away and no one took any notice of me. Good, I thought. I saw an inn across the marketplace. You can tell an inn anywhere, even though the architecture might be different. They just sort of say ‘inn’ to a traveler. I walked over to the door and went in. A brown-and-black-haired chap was behind the bar, clearing up, and an old fuzzy guy was clearing tables. It looked like they’d had a busy evening, but I was the only one around now.

Good evening sir, said the bartender. Can I get you refreshment, a room?

That was civil enough, I thought, and asked for a beer, as there was no sign of a Wozna on the shelves behind him. A town without Wozna? I sensed a business opportunity already. Things were looking up.

We just have ale, sir. Will that do?

I nodded and sipped the brew he placed in front of me. I tried not to wrinkle my nose, but it could have done with being a lot cooler. It was wet though, and it had certainly seen some good hops in its making.

I’m afraid the kitchen is closed, sir, but I could fix you a light snack if you’re in need. The barkeep was good, anticipating a traveler’s needs. I thought of my provisions and decided they’d do for tonight.

No, but I could do with a room. Do you do breakfast as well?

Yes, sir, ordinarily I’d offer it to you in your room, but we’re busy tonight. I can only offer you a dormitory room upstairs or a small private room below. Sorry…

… but it’s late, I finished for him. The small room below will do. Do you do papers?

The morning mail will bring them—around 9 o’clock, sir. Would you like me to keep one for you if you’re not already down then? I nodded. This guy gave good service. I wondered how he would like to be paid and whether the negotiables I’d bought would work. I’d fix that in the morning, I thought. I finished my beer and he showed me to the room. It was more of a cubbyhole and had two beds in it, neither of which was occupied. The second bed is more for emergencies, he said as he showed it to me. It was clean and comfortable and I said it would be fine. I checked that no one else would be joining me that night if they showed up even later. No sir, he said, adding, they’ll go in a dormitory if need be.

I said goodnight and sat down on the bed. It was dry and comfortable. I brushed myself off after my journey and lay down to think things through before I slept. I didn’t get that far though.

*****

I heard people moving around before I saw anyone. I lay there thinking of what had passed the day before and wondered where I was. The barkeep’s accent was strange and his manner of speech a little antiquated. The drinks on sale were not your regular barroom brands but otherwise similar in style and color. The furniture was rustic, the architecture outlandish, almost hick-town. The market stalls, what I’d seen of them, were regular market stalls. Time to get up, read a paper over breakfast, and explore a bit, I thought.

I found my way up to the bar and saw a fair number of guys sitting around at tables, with all the regular types of breakfast food and drink. I ordered cawffee and granola bars, which caused a double take on the part of the waiter, but when I pointed to a tray going past he called, Victor, coffee and oatcakes for the gentleman, on the double. A little tyke no more than seven years old poked his head back over the kitchen door, and I heard him repeating my order to someone else.

I ordered a paper, I said.

Should be here any minute now, he replied. I’ll send one over when they arrive. Would you like to take a seat over there, sir? He pointed to a small table by the window. That suited me fine; I could look at the view and observe people more easily.

There was plenty of action going on in the marketplace now. Two stagecoaches by the look of them were unloading packages and bags and reloading them in different configurations. A wagon stood by taking on grain from a store nearby. Another was unloading goods to a store opposite. The market seemed in full swing again, with sheets of striped cloth flapping in the morning breeze and occasionally being anchored to make shade for a stall owner. There were fruit and vegetables, more fruit, more vegetables, knickknacks and pots and pans—all the general things you’d expect in a regular country market. The square seemed to be sunk in the ground but open to the sky. A number of tunnels emerged from the walls. I had a sudden lurch of the stomach wondering which one I’d come from, then remembered I’d walked straight across the square into the front door, so it must be that one. I couldn’t see anyone going into it, although there were plenty of people going in and out of others.

Suddenly a covered wagon burst into the square from one of the tunnels and everyone first scattered away from its path, then ran up to it as it drew to a halt. The little tyke who had relayed my order ran out to it too, and I could see him crawl under all the other feet to get to the front, then drag a big stack of newspapers back to the inn behind him. I lost sight of him as a waiter brought my breakfast, and as he laid it in front of me he commented on the arrival of the mail coach and said my paper would be with me shortly. It was—the little tyke ran round the breakfast room and put papers on just about everyone’s table. I sipped my cawffee as I watched—and coughed—boy, was it strong! I asked the lad to bring me hot water to add to it and reached for an ‘oatcake’. It was nothing like a granola bar but it was good.

The Daily Impression looked much like any other tabloid paper. Nice pic of an old guy on the front arm in arm with a dame, with a headline Sowerby seals succession. Football results column in the corner with a link to the back page. I shook it out properly and looked at the date. 26th August 2001. That must be a misprint, surely, I thought. August 26 th yeah, but it should be 2013…. Funny way to write it, too.

I browsed through the paper, looking to get a feel of the place. What I felt was that I wasn’t anywhere near Hattan. It was not as foreign as India, but it wasn’t America. Oh, no, it sure wasn’t America. I’d been to most places in America. Quite a few I wouldn’t be going back to, and a few I wouldn’t want to set foot in anyway, but this wasn’t one of them. No, this was somewhere else. What I needed to know was: where was ‘here’. I looked around for some clues—the name of the inn on some menu or matchbook maybe.

The stages outside had labels on the front reading ‘Fortune-Dimerie’ and ‘Buckmore-Powell’. As I watched, another came from a tunnel with a label saying ‘Seventh Happiness’. It stopped and all the passengers (both of them) got out, took their bags, and left an empty coach standing there. The driver unhitched the horses and led them away. Terminal, maybe? Something to go on…

I finished my breakfast and stopped the young kid as he came past again.

If you had the chance, which of those stages would you go on? I asked him.

Oh, to Dimerie, sir. Goes to seaside. He grinned and dashed off.

I went over to the barkeep.

How do I get a ride on the Buckmore-Powell stage? I asked.

Leave it to me, sir. I’ll book you on. Your name, sir?

I hesitated. Might as well use one of my aliases, I thought. One that Willow would know if he needed to follow. Hugo, I said. Hugo del Novo.

That stage leaves in half an hour, sir. Can I ask whether you’ll be using cash or credit, Mr del Novo?

Can I set up a credit line here? I asked.

Depends on your security, sir. You could go to the exchange over in that kiosk, he said, pointing, if you need a referral to your castle, or we will take security here if it is easily negotiable.

Are you the owner of this inn? I asked.

Yes, sir, the name’s Argon, proprietor of the Inn of the Seventh Happiness these ten years, sir, since my father died. I can handle normal travelers’ needs, but nothing extensive. What do you have as security, sir?

I showed him two of my gold coins.

That’ll do nicely, sir. He took them and put them straight into a safe under the bar, set in the wall, nice and secure. He pulled out a ledger, wrote my name on a new page, and put a credit for my gold and a debit for room and breakfast and fare to Buckmore. He called his kid over and told him to book me on the Buckmore stage, wrote out a receipt for me and a letter of credit, and handed them to me. In all it took him less than a minute. I could do business with this guy, I knew.

I recommend taking a small snack with you on the stage, sir. It won’t arrive till evening. But it’s a pleasant journey after you leave the tunnel.

How did you know I wanted to go to Buckmore, not Powell? I asked.

Just a hunch, sir. I’m sure you’ll find your journey interesting. I look forward to seeing you on the way back.

I nodded and went back to my room to pick up my provisions, or what was left of them. I didn’t know whether I’d just been manipulated into going somewhere, or whether it was just where most people went. But I had a credit line, so no awkwardness about paying for things. I had somewhere to go next, and I had a paper to find out more about where I was. And some time to think. I took a quick tour of the square, bought some fresh fruit for the journey, and boarded the stage along with four others, three inside and one young person who went on top. I settled down to observe my companions and read my paper.

****

By the small glow in the carriage I had met and been introduced to the others. They were a strange bunch, typical traveling companions. Dr Higgs was a doctor of medicine returning from a visit to a sick aunt who had moved to the seaside some years ago. He didn’t have much to say and I was glad of it. Solwith was an elderly gentleman who said he was interested in beekeeping and had been to a conference on the subject. I can’t say I was at all interested. Princeling Winston was returning to Powell with his friend Baden who was the one on top. He wanted to talk, so I let him, but it was the usual self-conceit of the young and noble. The best thing about him, though, was the color it added to my guesswork about where I was. It seemed to be the Eastlands, the territory over the great Atlantic Sea that our ancestors had fled from. I’d never been here on my ordinary travels—the trade routes had stopped long ago after the nasty business with the tea in Boston. His prattling confirmed all that I hated about knights and things—like being called ‘sire’ and bowing and allegiance to castles and so on. Not that I didn’t have allegiance to Castle Hattan, of course. Just not the bowing and titles. One lord in a castle was quite enough, and it had to be me. It sounded like Castle Powell had a string of princelings, trouble brewing with the line of succession, and an over-talkative ‘fifth in line,’ as he styled himself.

I settled in behind my paper as the conversation died. People napped, read books, wrote letters. We stopped briefly at an opening in the tunnel, where we could see sunlight and trees above but were otherwise surrounded by cliff walls, and then we got back into the coach.

One more hour till Powell, said the driver, and we plunged into the tunnel once more. I snoozed. It seemed the best way to pass the time.

I woke up as we came out of the tunnel. Dr Higgs put down his book and looked out the window.

Ah, you can see Castle Powell! he said, pointing it out to me.

Solwith opened his eyes and looked at the castle. He leaned forward and adjusted his coat, as Winston had fallen against him in his sleep. Winston fell to the floor in a heap. I leant forward and shook him. And then I felt his pulse. Nothing.

He’s dead, I said to the astonished audience.

Chapter 3: Under suspicion



I turned once more as I paced around the room. ‘Around’ was the right word as I was in a turret along with my traveling companions, who were tedious and bigoted, and one of them must have been guilty. There was a door on one side, a little old slit-window on the other, but no corners. So why was I talking about ‘sides’? Well, it doesn’t take long to send me stir-crazy. But you could walk forward and back without bumping into anything, and it was better than sitting still and getting stiff. One stiff was enough on this trip. I set off at a slightly different angle and ended up at the window after six steps. I stopped and leaned on the sill. Pretty view, if you liked that sort of thing. Country, hills, river, people out farming. Prefer cities myself. You know where you are with a city. Country, anything can happen, including wrongful arrest.

We weren’t actually arrested, just ‘detained’. The coach had stopped at Castle Powell, and the body was unloaded. The Castle’s doctor said he’d been poisoned, and the driver swore the man had been fine when he got on after the last stop. Solwith, Higgs, and I had been politely invited to stay at the castle with an apology that this was the only room available and we’d have to share. Convenient that it didn’t have a handle on the inside of the door, then. We were given some food and drink at suitable intervals, but were not allowed our things from the coach, not even a book or paper. The tedium of the first evening was broken by a visit from a guy who asked a lot of questions. Each of us, in a separate room.

It was an interesting conversation, if a little one-sided. I’d been doing some hard thinking as to how to explain myself. Visitors from Hattan were unlikely to be common around here, and I could hardly say anything about the time tunnel. That is what it appeared to be, since one of Solwith and Higgs’ conversations had been about ‘last year’s millennium festivities’. I decided I’d better be in the security line myself, working undercover as an export/import merchant and unable to comment about my past. It was a trick I’d used before and it always worked. It wasn’t exactly untrue either.

The interrogator introduced himself as Japp, taking the ‘good cop’ style. He covered all the routine things like where was I traveling from and to, why (I decided ‘trade mission’ was a suitable description, and we didn’t go any deeper at this stage), and what I knew about the deceased. I told him the truth. He’d talked about himself nonstop since leave Seventh Happiness, after all. I told Japp what I knew about my fellow passengers, including the one on the top, and he asked whether any of them could have poisoned the deceased. I said it depended on how the poison had been administered and how long it needed to take effect, but probably any of us who had access to poison could have administered it. He looked at me steadily at that.

Did you have access to the poison, sir? he asked.

Apart from not knowing what poison was used, the only access I might have had was by reaching into Dr Higgs’s bag while he was asleep, assuming he had some, I said, as it was true. Fortunately I knew I hadn’t done it, which meant that it was most likely to have been Solwith or Higgs, so I might as well point Japp towards a possible source of poison. Not that I knew whether the medicine man carried anything with him.

Japp knew his business all right as he moved on from access to the murder weapon to motive. As I didn’t know the guy, had only just met the guy, didn’t have any interest in the line of succession at Castle Powell, and in many ways would rather have a good reputation with them in case business might be forthcoming, I clearly didn’t have a motive. The trouble for Japp seemed to be that neither did anyone else, except possibly for the friend on top of the coach.

I brooded over these things as I stared out of the window. It seemed to be an interesting place, this, and full of opportunity for Wozna if we could bring it through the tunnel. But when was I going to get back? Not only when was I going to arrive in Hattan, but when was I going to get away from Powell? I hadn’t reckoned on being away more than a couple of days, and given the length of time it took to get along the tunnel, one day was used up just in getting between the portal and the inn. If I left now, which was unlikely as I needed transport to get back to the inn, it would be three days since I left Hattan—my time. I told myself not to worry though, as if I’d gone on to Buckmore, I’d be in the same situation. I’d have arrived at Buckmore yesterday evening, stayed a night, and wouldn’t have wanted to leave before now. If there wasn’t transport it would be another night there. So I could relax. Couldn’t I?

There was a noise at the door. We all looked at it expectantly. Higgs and Solwith had stopped their continual complaining sometime around midday but they were still filled with an air of grievance. The door opened to show a young guy who’d been generally running errands, who looked at me and said, Mr del Novo, if you please, sir. They were certainly polite.

I followed him downstairs, and he led me into a different room from the one I was in the day before. A dame sat there, wearing cream and sable. I call her a dame, but this was no dame, this was a lady.

Mr del Novo, she said, rising to her feet and holding out a hand, I am Nimrod, Lady of Buckmore. The hand looked like it should be kissed, so I did the honors. She sat again and waved me to a chair.

I gather from Japp that you are a stranger in the area. I nodded and she continued. As Princeling Winston was fifth in the line of succession here at Powell, Japp felt it would be more appropriate if a neighbor was asked to handle the examination of the witnesses. I am that neighbor. Do you have any objections?

No, ma’am, I said.

Please would you explain why you were on that coach, on that day.

I explained that I had arrived at the inn after a long journey, rested, and thought to explore some, and took the Buckmore stage simply because it was there.

What did you hope to gain by going to Buckmore?

Well, I’m in the drinks business, ma’am. I noticed that there was none of my brand at the inn, and I wondered whether I had found a region where there might be some business. I thought I’d check out a few of the important places around. It was purely an exploratory visit, ma’am.

She nodded and looked at her hands. They were neat, pretty hands, gloved in dark material, contrasting with the cream of her gown.

What opinion did you form of Princeling Winston?

Young, impetuous, cocky, naïve, talkative, indiscreet.… I looked at her.

She smiled. And what of his companion, Baden?

I didn’t really meet him, ma’am. He seemed hardy enough to travel on the roof, but I only saw him at that break really.

Did he and Winston spend the break together?

I thought long and hard. I’d walked around the cliffs stretching my legs in that break. I had no interest in what the others had done at the time, and I couldn’t recall with any certainty now. I said so.

What would you say if I told you that Mr Solwith and Dr Higgs have both accused you of poisoning Winston?

I would have laughed but it might have given the wrong impression. I would say that both of them had the opportunity, and I didn’t have anything to do with it.

You have had some time to think about it. Who do you think did it and why?

I thought carefully again. What was I getting into here, and how was I going to get out of it? If I was a security agent under cover, would I give ideas or would I play dumb? I decided on a third way.

As far as I can see it, Winston was a dumb jerk who happened to be a possible obstacle to whoever was further down the line of succession. If numbers one to four have been bumped off, then number six had better watch out. I might check on whether Dr Higgs’ sick aunt at the seaside was real, or really ill, and I might check on whether Mr Solwith really keeps bees and went to a conference. But I don’t even know what poison was involved. I might even consider whether someone was trying to get Dr Higgs or Solwith and got Winston by mistake. I looked at her, trying to gauge her response.

Or you? she said, deadpan.

No one knows me here, I said. I’ve only spoken to the innkeeper and his underlings, and the passengers, Japp, and you. I’m a nobody.

It comes in handy being a nobody sometimes. I’ve learned that by experience. Mind you, being a somebody can be handy at times, too.

If you were released this evening, Mr del Novo, where would you go?

Depends on where the transport will take me, ma’am.

The six o’clock stage will take you back to the Inn of the Seventh Happiness. The half past six local will take you to Buckmore.

Quaint, I thought, ‘half past six’. I loved the way she said it. If she was Lady of Buckmore, what was the rest of Buckmore like?

Having met you, ma’am, I’m even more inclined to visit Buckmore and sample its hospitality, at least for one night.

She smiled.

Do that, Mr del Novo. Stay at Jupiter’s Bar and take in at least one lunchtime concert before you leave.

****

Whatever it was that I’d said, it seemed that I was off the hook, for now at least. I didn’t mind. As I was shown down to the great yard by the front gates of the castle, I gathered that Mr Solwith and Dr Higgs were spending another night at Castle Powell’s pleasure. Much to my surprise my escort handed me over to Baden, the young man who had been traveling on the roof.

Hello, he said. I’m afraid Castle Powell’s hospitality runs to making sure you are escorted off the premises, so I’m going to go with you to—is it still Buckmore?

I nodded.

They haven’t locked you up, then? I asked as we crossed the yard to where two coaches were standing.

No, I’m in the clear, I’m afraid, he said with a grin. It’s Powell politics at work, but why they mixed you up in it I have no idea.

I was surprised, but didn’t show it. Where I came from, castle politics usually meant family, and as far as I understood, he was family. Having said that, he was the sort of family you liked having around. He gave an air of resourcefulness, and practicality. Just the sort of guy you want around—like Willow, in fact. I thought about the people I’d met so far. Regular mix of people, just with different attitudes and culture, but the same underneath: some petty, some vain, some you’d want on your team—Argon, Baden, Lady Nimrod. Either that or he was the deadliest of double agents.

We got into the larger of the two coaches, which had bench seats running lengthways and a bar with straps hanging from it running the length of the roof, front to back. We watched people bustling about the yard for a bit, and dashing for the other coach, which departed with a clatter and a cloud of dust a little while after a clock in the gate struck six.

I know we’re early, Baden said, but it’s best to get seats.

Our coach quickly filled up with all manner of people: some who looked like office workers, some tradespeople, a cook, a baker, and a couple of women dragging bags of vegetables that got in everyone’s way. The driver came round and argued with them until the bags were forcibly dragged off and stowed on the roof, where they made the canvas cover sag alarmingly. The coach set off on the half-hour bell of the clock, with three or four men running after it, being pulled aboard, climbing onto the roof to distribute the sagging canvas more evenly, and hanging onto the back standing on some part of the coach itself.

It took about three hours to get to Castle Buckmore, winding through villages where people got off and others got on. We arrived at the gates to the castle at dusk, and an argument ensued as the driver didn’t want to take the coach up the tunnel, saying his animals were too tired. Some argued, some stayed on board, and some just got off and started walking.

Come on, said Baden, pulling my arm, and we jumped off. Instead of following the others, we went through a side gate set in the wall and up a spiral staircase. Always good to know some alternative routes, he said with a grin.

We emerged in a shadowy square, lights twinkling in stores and hostelries around the edge and also in the trees in the center. Delightful smells of delicately flavored food wafted through the air, and my mouth began to water. I hadn’t seen or smelled anything like it since I was in India, where the architecture might have been similar, but the greenery and the setting were entirely different. It was a charming place.

Where are you going to stay? Baden asked.

Well, the Jupiter was recommended. I wasn’t going to say by whom.

Oh, that’s over here, he said. It’s a good place. He led me towards it.

Where will you stay? I asked.

Oh, with a friend, I hope. If he’s not here, I hope he’ll have left the door open. And he laughed. I had friends like that too. Sounded like Baden was no stranger to this place. Can I join you later? For a meal? About half an hour?

Urr, ok, I said. I wondered whether he was detailed to keep me under observation or whether he was just being friendly. Hard to tell. I didn’t mind company of his sort. Might be useful. I could do with having time to look at the beverages market here, though. This place had an air of importance about it.

He left me at the door of ‘Jupiter’s Bar,’ as the sign proclaimed above the door, and I stepped into a cool and fragrant room. Fragrance of people, food, and drink, a great mixture to a city boy. There were plenty of customers around, but most were collecting drinks and taking them to tables outside. I waited my turn and secured a room for the night. They didn’t stock Wozna either. They didn’t stock too many bottles of anything and no cans. Mostly it was barrels, jugs, and urns. I checked that they served food till late, and took a menu and a jug of perry out to a table. I hoped I liked perry as there was a lot of it to drink in that jug. After a couple of sips I decided it was ok, and the stoneware jug kept it good and cold.

I relaxed for a bit and wondered what I should do. It was interesting, this wandering around a strange land, but it was getting tiring meeting all these people, and I didn’t know how long being away here was affecting things in Hattan. I kept checking my timing. I didn’t think I’d been away from Hattan longer than about half an hour. If I left Buckmore tomorrow and went straight back I reckoned I would have been away less than an hour. I didn’t want Willow to have to follow me unnecessarily, though. Should I have gone straight back from Powell? But if I went on the afternoon stage tomorrow, then straight down the tunnel, chances are I’d meet Willow in the tunnel. If I’d worked out the times right. It sure was complicated.

Here he is, came Baden’s voice behind me. I stood up and turned round. Baden had brought a friend, who bore a striking resemblance to the Lady Nimrod, but he was definitely a male. Umm, this is Mr del Novo....

Call me Hugo, I said, holding out a hand to shake his.

Hello, Hugo, call me Lupin, he said decisively, and shook mine.

Chapter 4: A Stitch in Time



I sat back in the luxurious coach and smiled at Lupin. We were already well on the way to the Inn of the Seventh Happiness, and I wondered if that was an omen. What were the first six Happinesses anyway?

He was more than just a guy, although I hadn’t established where he fitted into the Buckmore establishment until I saw the coach. After a pleasant meal that first night we had chatted about business and issues involved in running an enterprise at Buckmore. It sounded like I was being recruited to do just that if I might be handy, but I laid my cards on the table and told him I was in export and looking for new business outlets myself. We got around to more general matters then, including the politics of Castle Powell. Seemed like the old king there was getting on and hadn’t any kids of his own, so the line of succession was all through brothers with numerous wives, and keeping tabs on who was next was tricky. Add to that a rule about residence being necessary to stake a claim to the inheritance, and some who would have been near the top of the line had really screwed up. Baden was in the mix too, but descended from a daughter or aunt or something, which meant he couldn’t count, but that was being argued about. I was glad we had a simpler way at Hattan, but I couldn’t exactly tell them about it.

The next day I’d had a chance to explore the castle,