A Vanishing of Griffins Page 7

  At this, Erner’s eyes widened. He looked at Alia with awe. “You…?” he said. “You’re the Witch of Gemspar?”

  Alia smiled and clicked her fingers, creating a shower of purple sparks. “Guilty as charged,” she said.

  Rundel continued. “Alia, I thank you not only for your cure, but also for seeking out Erner and bringing him back. You have my eternal gratitude. As do the three of you – Barver, Wren and Brightwater – both for Erner’s safe return and for destroying the Obsidiac Organ when all looked lost. You are heroes! Although the Council didn’t mention any of you by name in the official report of what happened, and described you only in the vaguest of terms.”

  “That’s for the best,” said Alia. “Trust me. Your lives would never be your own again if people knew who you were.”

  “Perhaps,” said Rundel. “Now, to other matters.” He reached to a pocket and produced several sheets of folded paper. “Once I woke, I contacted the Custodian Elite and requested news from Tiviscan. It will interest you all, I think.”

  Alia scowled at him. “You’d better not have told the Council where we are,” she said.

  “Of course not,” said Rundel. “Tobias explained to me about the prophecy: of how it warned of a betrayal, and led to Erner’s capture.” He looked at Patch, and Patch felt his blood chill. “He told me how the Pipers’ Council then seemed to fulfil the prophecy instead, suggesting that it’s the Council itself who’ll betray Brightwater. To whatever you fear most, I understand?”

  Patch nodded.

  “Rest assured that I was cautious, Alia,” said Rundel. “My contact at Tiviscan will not inform the Council without my express order. The question must be answered eventually, though – what kind of betrayal is predicted? What does Brightwater fear most?”

  “I hate prophecies,” said Alia. “I especially hate it when it was me doing the prophesying. I honestly don’t know what to expect. There’s every chance that it’s not just Patch who would be betrayed. It could be all of us. That’s why we should play it safe, and assume the Council isn’t to be trusted. And as to what Patch fears most? There’s an obvious candidate for that, of course, but prophecies are rarely obvious. There’s no guarantee that it refers to the Hamelyn Piper.”

  Rundel grimaced. “Even the mention of that name riles me,” he said. “What terrible news to wake up to – that the Hamelyn Piper, a vile criminal I thought dead by dragon fire was not only alive, but had been free all these years. And to learn that we’d imprisoned an innocent man in his place…” He shook his head, and opened the pages in his hand. “As I said, I requested news from Tiviscan.” Everyone pricked up their ears. “Across the world, people know that the Hamelyn Piper still lives, and they’re afraid. So, the Pipers’ Council is putting everything into finding him. They’re calling it ‘The Great Pursuit’.”

  “I like the sound of that!” said Alia. “Now that Erner’s safe, I rather fancy the idea of tracking down the villain myself.”

  “You’ve changed your mind about the Council, then?” said Tobias.

  “I certainly have not!” she said. “There are many ways they could betray us, but at least their Great Pursuit means they’re not in league with the scoundrel.”

  “Can we be certain of that?” asked Tobias. “Does this hunt seem genuine, Rundel?”

  “My contact at Tiviscan, Harston Wynne, is one of the Custodian Elite scribes,” said Rundel, looking through the pages as he spoke. “He said that ten expeditions of Custodians have been sent hunting for the Hamelyn Piper. Lord Drevis embarked on the first of these, and has not been back to Tiviscan since.”

  “How many Pipers were in each expedition?” asked Tobias.

  “The smallest group was twenty,” said Rundel. “The largest was fifty.”

  Tobias looked horrified. “That must be half of the Custodian Elite! When we were on the case, we only had eight in total!”

  “What happened to the remains of the Obsidiac Organ, Rundel?” asked Alia. “If there’s one thing the Hamelyn Piper would like to get his hands on, it must be that!”

  “I asked Harston about it in my letter,” said Rundel. “The Council have stored the remains in Tiviscan Castle.”

  Alia shook her head in dismay. “I’d hoped Lord Drevis would see sense and destroy it all. It’s too dangerous to keep.”

  “Lord Cobb convinced him otherwise,” said Rundel. “Harston assures me that it’s absolutely secure, though. If anything, they’d prefer the Hamelyn Piper to attempt to steal it. At least then they would know where he is!”

  “They must have some information about his location?” said Tobias. “Surely the Council doesn’t have the Custodians chasing shadows?”

  Rundel frowned. “Sadly, that may be the case,” he said. “These expeditions have been sent to far-flung places based on little more than rumour and speculation. The Council is desperate to show the world that it has everything under control. They’re putting so many resources into this hunt that the normal duties of the Custodian Elite are being neglected. I fear the Council has made a terrible error.”

  Tobias nodded. “Removing Custodians from their normal duties could have a severe impact. The world doesn’t stop squabbling just because the Hamelyn Piper is at large.”

  “Precisely,” said Rundel. “In the great forests of the Ortings, for example, there are ludicrous tales of ghostly armies attacking traders, based on some old legend about a knight in black armour – all nonsense, but it’s stirring up bad-feeling between countries who have always hated each other. Exactly the kind of situation the Custodians should step into, and calm down, but none can be spared from the Great Pursuit, apparently. I have half a mind to go there myself and deal with it.” He shook his head. “The Council takes a great risk, if it thinks the world is sensible enough to do without the wisdom of Custodians, even for a short while.”

  Silence fell for a time, except for the sounds of eating, as they concentrated on the important task of filling their bellies.

  “So, then,” said Barver, after what Patch reckoned was his tenth bowl of stew. “We’re going to have the honour of witnessing the eminent Rundel Stone solving a crime!”

  “Oh, please, Barver,” said Alia. “He has a big enough head already without your flattery.”

  “It will be my honour,” said Rundel. “Ural was a friend, and a good man. He deserves justice. The local authorities investigated, but found no culprit. They gave up easily, but we will not.”

  “Why didn’t the Custodians investigate his death?” said Barver. “It seems odd, given how famous Casimir was.”

  “The Custodians did not know,” said Rundel. “And Ural wished his identity to remain secret even after his death. All of the Eight knew, naturally. He had two housekeeping staff – a husband and wife, Hest and Tipa Raqan, who’d been with the family since before he was born. They also knew, of course, and it was they who discovered Ural’s body that dreadful morning. The Raqans are old now, and live in Yarmingly, the village at the base of the hill. They visited Ural twice a week. Had they been here when he was attacked, they probably would have been killed too. Ural had instructed them that should anything ever happen to him, they were to send word to me that Yemas de Frenn had been killed. Erner and myself rushed here at once when word reached us. Mere minutes after our arrival I found that damnable puzzle box on the floor, a curious metal cube. No sooner had I picked it up than I felt the sting of a treacherous needle, and the poison entered my veins!” His gaze fell on his right hand, which he clenched and unclenched, the effort and pain of the action written clearly on his face. “I told Erner that we had to reach Brother Tobias in Marwheel Abbey as soon as possible, and that the Raqans were to report the death to the local authorities, with no mention of our visit. Ural’s body was placed in the family mausoleum, and I vowed to return as soon as I could. I instructed the Raqans to keep the scene of the crime unchanged, beyond dealing with the body and…” He paused. “And the immediate implications of the attack.”


  “He means the blood,” muttered Barver to Patch, earning a sharp glare in return.

  Rundel continued: “And now I have come back, and the investigation can truly begin. There is a murder to solve, yes. But I will need help from all of you to solve it.”

  It wasn’t long before all at the table had eaten more than their bellies could comfortably fit – Barver being the exception, of course, as his belly could fit several whole sheep and a barrowful of onions. With the meal done, Tobias loaded his trolley with the empty bowls and took them back to the kitchen.

  “And now, I would like to talk to my apprentice,” said Rundel. “In private, Erner.”

  “Of course, Virtus Stone,” said Erner, addressing him by his rank. Rundel stood slowly, in clear discomfort, but with an air of stubborn determination. Patch could see on Erner’s face how much he wanted to help, yet there was no way Rundel Stone would welcome any assistance. Rundel set off, leaning heavily on his cane, with Erner just behind.

  Once the door had shut, Alia let rip with a long and echoing belch that could have won awards. Wren chirruped with glee, while Alia grinned with satisfaction. “That was a good meal,” she said. “And a good meal deserves the respect of a good burp.”

  To his great disappointment, Patch found that he didn’t have much of a store of gas in his gullet. Any attempt to outdo Alia’s effort would be pitiful, so he opted to hold back entirely.

  Barver, on the other hand, rose to the challenge. He raised his head, and a terrific gurgling came from his stomach; he opened his mouth, and out came a rumbling, bubbling belch that seemed to last for ever, growing into what was almost a roar.

  A look of astonishment was on Alia’s face, mingled (Patch reckoned) with a degree of admiration. The victory was deservedly Barver’s. Patch and Wren, meanwhile, were reduced to hysterical laughter as the burp kept going.

  Then, just as it started to falter, the sound changed and a sudden burst of fire shot out from Barver’s snout. With a shriek, Alia ducked under the table, but she was well out of range. Barver clamped his mouth shut, looking absolutely mortified.

  Patch checked that Wren was okay, then glanced at the table and ceiling, neither of which showed signs of damage. He stared at Barver, shocked.

  Barver coughed. “That caught me off guard,” he said, in an unusually subdued voice. “Must have been the onions.” He rubbed at his throat, concerned. “Forgive me! That’s never happened before.”

  “No chance of it being anything serious?” asked Alia. “I’m sure Ural has books that cover dragon ailments, if you think it could be.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Barver. “All the worst dragon illnesses have the opposite effect, really – sick dragons lose their fire completely. Besides, it’s often been the case that ailments that affect me are unusual. Being half-dragon and half-griffin has complications. Every dracogriff is one of a kind. You really don’t know how you’re going to turn out.”

  Alia raised an eyebrow. She made a point of looking at her own hands, then at Patch, and finally Wren. “Well, Barver,” said Alia, with a smile. “I don’t think you’re alone in that.”

  Patch knew exactly what she meant. Here was Alia Corrigan, a famous Piper turned legendary Witch; here was Patch Brightwater, imprisoned for life, an escaped convict turned hero; and here was Wren Cobble, just as much a hero as Patch, but ten times braver and a hundred times smarter, all packaged up in a rat’s skin.

  As Barver had said, you really don’t know how you’re going to turn out.

  Tobias came back from the kitchen waving some pieces of paper in his hand. He set them on the table, and Patch could see what they were: letters, three of them.

  Tobias grinned. “You’ve all had replies from the ones you sent out when you left Marwheel!”

  Before setting off on their adventure in the Islands of the Eastern Sea, they had each written a letter – Wren to her parents, Patch to his grandparents, and Barver to his aunt and uncle – to try and reassure their loved ones that they were safe and well. Patch and Wren, not wanting to worry anyone, had pretty much made everything up. Patch’s letter described how well his training at Tiviscan was going, while Wren’s letter explained how successful her maid’s job was. Wren had dictated it for Patch to write; she’d tried doing it herself but kept getting ink on her paws and leaving little prints on the paper.

  Tobias handed the replies out.

  Patch broke open the little wax seal on Wren’s letter and folded it out for her, before opening his own and reading it as hungrily as he’d eaten the stew.

  It was wonderfully boring. The handwriting was the small, pristine script of his grandmother. They assured him that they were fine, and said how much they missed him and how proud of him they were. To hear from his grandparents was a great relief. They weren’t ill, and they weren’t having sleepless nights worrying about him.

  He realized that Wren was watching him. “Did you read yours already?” he asked.

  She nodded. They both glanced at Barver, who had by far the longest letter. He seemed to be on the third page, and it wasn’t easy to tell how many more pages remained. It’s good to hear from home, signed Wren.

  “How are things with your parents?” said Patch.

  A few little dramas, but nothing bad, she signed. Our dog fell ill, that was about the worst, but he’s okay now. Apart from that, just gossip from the village and wishing me well in my job as a maid. She paused, and shook her head. Maid! If only they knew! What about your grandparents?

  “Nothing much to report,” he said. “I wish our lives could be that uneventful, at least for a while.”

  They looked at Barver again, just as he set the last page down and let out a breath. “Blimey,” he said.

  “It was your aunt and uncle you wrote to, wasn’t it?” asked Patch.

  Barver nodded. “I’ve not been in touch since I fell out with my mum and left for the Eastern Sea,” he said. “I tried to keep my distance from them too. It seemed easier. They were really pleased to hear from me, though.”

  Wren smiled. “Well, if your letter is like ours, hardly anything happened but they told you about it in mind-numbing detail. Am I right?”

  “Quite the opposite,” said Barver. “For a start, they’ve moved. My aunt is now the Triumvirate’s Delegate in the city of Skamos, no less!”

  Alia and Tobias both sat up at that. Skamos was the only city in the Dragon Territories where humans lived, a place that had led to problems between dragons and humans more than once. Not that the residents of the city were the problem – one in twenty of the inhabitants were dragons, yet the citizens got along with each other perfectly well. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Skamos was a focus for all those humans who hated dragons, and for all those dragons who hated humans. The Custodian Elite had a permanent delegation in the city, and so did the Dragon Triumvirate – the three rulers of the Dragon Territories. Together they had helped steer a path of peace in Skamos for over a century.

  “Impressive,” said Alia. “A Triumvirate representative. Any other interesting news?”

  Barver picked up the first few pages of his letter again. “There’s rather a lot about politics in the Dragon Territories. The dragon army attacking Tiviscan has proved very controversial.”

  Tobias nodded. “We’d caught some whispers. Most dragons thought it was going too far, as I understand.”

  “Not quite,” said Barver. “Some thought it was going too far, but on the other extreme, there are plenty of dragons who think the attack didn’t go far enough!”

  Tobias looked at Alia, his expression serious. “What do you mean, not far enough?”

  Barver checked his letter again. “Some dragons think the army should have wiped Tiviscan off the map when they had the chance.”

  “There have always been dragons who’d like to see Tiviscan destroyed,” said Alia. “They usually keep their opinions rather quieter. Thankfully the Triumvirate has never gone down that path.”

  Patch didn�
�t like all this talk of politics. “But what about your aunt and uncle?” he said. “Are they well?”

  At this, Barver grinned his widest grin. “Ah, yes! Good news! My aunt laid an egg, and the egg hatched six months ago!”

  Patch could feel tears prick at his eyes. “A cousin!” he said. Barver didn’t look very far from tears himself.

  A cousin.

  Patch thought, then, of the hot desert – the Dragon Wastes, where the three of them had flown to satisfy the dying wish of Barver’s mother. And there, uncovered the terrible secret of the origin of obsidiac.

  Also called black diamond, obsidiac was the most powerful magical substance in existence, and the terrible secret was this: obsidiac was formed from the bones of dead dragons, and it was dragon children that made black diamond of the purest kind.

  Barver had had a cousin, once, a younger cousin he had doted on. A girl, called Genasha, who had died of an illness. Barver’s mother had stolen her body and buried it secretly in the Dragon Wastes, seven years before. It was Genasha’s skeleton that the three of them found that day, blackening, proving the theory that Barver’s mother had hoped was wrong.

  Genasha’s darkened bones had answered at last why the Hamelyn Piper had done what he’d done, at least when it came to the hundred dragon children he’d stolen: he had killed them so that he could plant their bones, and harvest obsidiac when the time came, giving him the means to create his terrible Obsidiac Organ and attempt to take over the world.

  It was a secret so appalling that they had told no one the truth – not even Alia or Tobias. In the letter from Barver’s mother, she had been quite specific about who they could tell: only Lord Drevis, the leader of the Pipers’ Council.

  All this was in the tears that fell now, down the cheeks of Patch, and Wren, and Barver – sorrow at what had gone before, mixed with the joy of the news that had come.

  “Yes,” said Barver, once he’d settled his emotions enough to speak. “A cousin! The news is not all dark, not by a long way.”