Page 18 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

Solar thought the pair looked like the kind normally to be suspicious of travellers, and mean and stingy besides.

The man had sallow skin and frazzled grey hair that stuck up in clumps around bald patches, and he wore baggy clothes that hung off his skinny frame as if it were a coat hook.

His wife, on the other hand, was so large that her belly pressed against the counter every time she made to pour a pint.

Egg yolk and dark ale stained her apron, and she had a ruddy face and narrow, watery eyes.

Tonight, though, they wore large smiles from ear to ear and seemed in the finest of moods.

The landlady caught sight of Binns.

‘Sir, I believe you have stayed in our establishment before, no? What an honour it is to have you back!’ she cried delightedly.

‘Aye, I did,’ replied Binns without smiling. ‘If I recall correctly, you charged me extra when I let my horse drink from your trough.’

The landlord gave a high-pitched cackle. ‘Come, come, sir, let the past stay in the past. Tonight all are friends, and we have an offer on our rooms: children sleep free.’

‘We are not children,’ blurted Bear hotly, then ducked a cuff round the ears from Binns.

‘We require three rooms. One to sleep six children and the others adult singles,’ said Loveday. He looked around the room of clients laughing, singing and falling off their chairs. ‘What is the occasion?’ he asked.

‘No occasion that I can think of,’ replied the landlord. ‘Only that, suffice to say, the townsfolk of Ravenbridge have realised what a joy it is to be alive and, furthermore, how splendid it is to share that joy with others such as yourselves.’

The landlady’s stomach bumped against the counter as she placed three room keys and two enormous tankards of frothy beer before Loveday and Binns. ‘Won’t you join us for the party? If things carry on the way they’re going, my guess is this will be the week’s wildest yet,’ she cajoled.

Loveday looked at Binns out of the corner of his eye. ‘I’m not so sure,’ he muttered.

‘Drinks on the house, all night long,’ added the landlord with a smile that showed the gaps in his teeth.

‘Well, it is one hell of a party,’ said Binns, as a woman started swinging from one of the beams.

‘Joining such revelries doesn’t sit well with me, Dirk, not when we’re solving a mission on behalf of the king.’

‘Exploring the kingdom’s drinking holes is a perk of working his missions, not a distraction,’ Binns said, watching a pretty barmaid wend her way through the crowd, balancing platters of food.

Loveday cast Binns a disapproving frown. ‘By your own account, Dirk, the people of this town are not the merrymaking kind. It strikes me as odd that there is a party in full flow, and I think we would do best to sleep it out and begin our investigations on the morrow, with clear heads.’

‘Aye, it’s a surprise to see the folk here letting their hair down. But that’s why we ought to join in. Drunk people let secrets slip. We’re more likely to find out something to aid our investigations here, with drink flowing, than from a hungover populace tomorrow morning.’

At Binns’ reasoning, Solar saw Loveday’s resolve begin to waver.

‘Just one drink,’ Binns added, pressing a tankard into Loveday’s hands and chinking it encouragingly with his own.

‘If you insist,’ Loveday said resignedly, taking a sip. ‘You do have a point. If secrets flow as freely as the beer, we might find ourselves in a position to begin our investigations at a gallop. ’

Pingot stepped up to the bar and addressed the landlady. ‘We’re going to need four—’ he caught sight of Cal and Wyman entering the inn via the back door, ‘no, six more tankards please.’

Loveday held up a hand. ‘Nice try, Pingot,’ he said with a chuckle that was not unkind. ‘I don’t want six hungover students traipsing after me tomorrow.’ He tossed him a key. ‘Settle yourselves down for the night boys … and girl. We’ll be up at the crack of dawn to find and slay the Devoratrix.’

‘Come back tomorrow, handsome,’ the landlady added to Bear directly as they turned away, addressing him in a somewhat lewd manner. ‘We’re not going to run dry just yet.’

Solar scowled at the woman. Handsome? she thought to herself incredulously.

She’d never seen her friend as attractive before.

Maybe in a pretty kind of way, with his thick auburn hair and green eyes.

But definitely not handsome . Not like Cal.

Tall, broad-shouldered, chiselled Cal with those eyes that smouldered …

Have some self-control! she thought furiously. You swore that you wouldn’t think of that prat like that anymore.

The students headed for the stairs. When Solar looked back, she saw that Loveday and Binns were already surrounded by a crowd of young women. The master-at-arms had a redhead seated on his lap and an arm around another who could only have been her sister, both giggling at some joke he was telling.

*

The students soon gave up trying to sleep.

There was no let-up in the raucous noise from downstairs as the moon rose higher in the night sky.

The mischief-loving imps whizzed around the bedroom wreaking general havoc with pictures, curtains and other furnishings.

One of them opened the window latch, and they all flew out to blow raspberries at the revellers on the terrace below.

Cal sat in a corner staring sullenly at the others, candlelight flickering on his dark, brooding features.

Oswald and Wyman played at cards, Oswald cheating slyly and Wyman growing more and more despondent at his run of ill luck.

Solar, Bear and Pingot sat huddled together, a book on demons spread open under the glow of a candle.

‘ The Devoratrix ,’ breathed Pingot, his finger tracing the words on the aged yellow pages. ‘ A fearsome she-devil born to a witch on a starless night, when the rivers freeze over and all other newborns perish in the crib .’

‘No surprises there,’ interjected Cal, dropping his pretence of disinterest in the younger students to throw Solar a filthy look. ‘A she-devil born to a witch.’

Oswald and Wyman gave appreciative guffaws.

‘Continue,’ said Solar to Pingot, ignoring Cal.

‘ The adult Devoratrix is possessed of an insatiable hunger for the death of innocents and the taste of their flesh. Besides the heart, which is made of ice, the Devoratrix anatomy is indistinguishable from that of a regular human. This makes them notoriously difficult to identify, especially in densely populated towns and cities. The Devoratrix’s favourite method of killing her prey is to feed them exquisite food and drink, magically enhanced to be irresistibly delicious.

Their victims dine until they die at their plates in a state of supreme happiness.

This, it is rumoured, is because a content victim is particularly flavoursome to the Devoratrix. ’

Oswald and Wyman had paused their game and were listening intently, the shadows not disguising their sudden unease.

‘You don’t think … you don’t think that Loveday expects us to help him fight this D-Devoratrix, do you?’ asked Wyman to the room at large in a trembling whisper. ‘We wouldn’t stand a chance, we’re just students!’

Cal stood and strode over to Solar, Bear and Pingot. ‘I for one hope he does. I can’t wait to drive my sword through the she-beast’s icy heart: any female practising magic is a worthy target. And for that I need some sleep.’ He pinched the candle wick and submerged the room in darkness.

*

They did not wake until late morning, when hunger drove them from their beds and down to the bar in search of breakfast. Bodies were strewn all over the tables, floor and terrace, fast asleep.

Loveday was in a heap in the corner, a lopsided smile on his handsome face, snoring loudly.

Binns was slumped against a stool, muttering in his sleep.

‘Gods, I wish we’d been allowed at the party last night,’ said Oswald enviously. ‘Just look at the state of Loveday and Binns. It must have been wild.’

The students approached the landlord standing behind the bar, his yellow skin like candle wax. He had a vacant look about him and swayed unsteadily, supported only by the counter.

Cal coughed. The landlord snapped out of his reverie and his smile returned.

‘Young sirs!’ he exclaimed loudly. ‘And young madam, of course,’ he added with a sweeping bow to Solar. ‘What can I get for you to break your fast?’

They ordered fried eggs, sausages and tomatoes, and once they had finished they mopped up the fat with crusty bread.

Sitting further along the bar were a group of revellers who had just woken and were now nursing headaches and large beakers of water.

A fresh-faced man with long, tawny hair entered the inn and approached the sorry group.

He was dressed luxuriously and wore an ostentatious gold wedding ring on a plump finger.

It looked brand new. The kingfisher feather in his cap matched the rich blue of his cloak.

The man whispered something in the ear of one of the customers, who produced a bag of silver and placed it in the newcomer’s hand with a smile as if he were glad to be rid of it.

The tawny-haired man clapped him on the back then proceeded to greet the rest of the group in turn.

With each one he picked out something on their person to admire, whether a leather belt, decorated knife or item of jewellery.

Soon they were pressing their fine things into the hands of the man who, it seemed to Solar, must have been a person of considerable popularity.

The landlord noticed the huddle of students watching the exchanges open-mouthed.