John, Delph and I dumbly followed Thansius outside. There was a beautiful blue carriage waiting, pulled by four magnificent grey sleps, each standing patiently on their six muscled legs. It was said that sleps used to be able to fly. I have never believed this, although along a slep’s withers, it’s possible to see a slight indentation where something used to be attached.
Thansius looked at Delph. ‘Get along with you, Daniel. This conversation concerns private matters.’
Delph raced away, his long legs carrying him out of sight in half a sliver.
Thansius motioned John and I inside the carriage. Thansius settled in the seat across from us and smoothed down his robe. He glanced questioningly at John.
‘This is my brother, John.’
‘I know who he is,’ replied Thansius. ‘I am contemplating whether he needs to be here or not.’
Even though he sat in the shadows of his seat, I could clearly see his face. It was heavy, lined with worry, the eyes small, and the flesh around them puckered. His hair was long and an odd mix of cream and silver, as was his beard.
‘I think I’d prefer him to wait outside,’ said Thansius at last.
‘I would like my brother to stay,’ I replied, and then I held my breath. I had no idea where that came from. Talking to Thansius was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Talking back to Thansius was unthinkable.
Thansius cocked his head at me. He didn’t look angry, simply bemused.
‘And why is that?’
‘In case whatever you have to ask me concerns him. Then I will not have to repeat it because I am certain I cannot match your eloquence, Thansius.’
We all loved to listen to Thansius even if we did not always understand what he was saying.
The bemusement turned to a half-smile, and then his face became a stone.
From his pocket Thansius withdrew an object. I knew what it was before he even showed it to me. My grandfather’s ring.
‘It is quite an interesting design,’ he said.
‘Do you know what it means?’ I asked.
‘I doubt any Wug does, other than your grandfather.’ He edged forward, his wide knee nearly scraping my bony one. ‘It was found at Herms’s cottage.’
‘He was friends with my grandfather, so he probably gave it to him,’ I replied.
Thansius seemed to mull this over for a few moments. Then he said, ‘Quentin Herms was your mentor as a Finisher. Did you like him?’
‘I did.’
He stroked his chin with one large hand. ‘So you had no indication that he might go off . . . ?’
‘Where is there to go off to?’ I said quite innocently but hoping for some enlightenment.
‘So, no message left behind for you?’ he asked, ignoring my query.
I furrowed my brow and willed my brain to do the best job of answering without really saying anything of importance.
‘I don’t know what he would have to leave for me.’ This was perfectly true.
He stared at my face so intently it felt like my skin was melting away, allowing him to see into my soul. ‘You and your brother may be on your way.’
We should have left right then, but I needed to say something, and although half of me was terrified to do so, the other half of me won out. ‘Can I have the ring, Thansius?’
He stared at me. ‘The ring?’
‘Yes. We’re the only family left. So, can I have it?’
I could sense John holding his breath. I held my own, awaiting Thansius’s answer.
‘Maybe one light, Vega, but not now.’
He opened the carriage door and waved a hand, beckoning us to exit.
Before the carriage door closed, I saw Thansius stare at me. It was an enigmatic look, a cross between pity and remorse. I could understand neither end of it. The door closed, Thansius’s driver, Thomas Bogle, flicked the reins, and the carriage rumbled off.
As the carriage disappeared over the horizon, I took John’s hand and pulled him along in the direction of the Loons.
Cacus Loon opened the door for us. He had beetle brows, a low forehead, and hair that had not been washed for at least a session or two. His pants and shirt were as greasy as his hair, and he had a habit of forever twirling the ends of his enormous moustache.
Loon followed us into the main room of the lower floor. It was large and contained a long table where we took our meals. A kitchen adjoined it, where Loon’s wife, Hestia, spent much of her time doing the work that he told her to do. This included making meals, doing the wash, and making sure that Loon had whatever he wanted.
‘They say Quentin Herms has gone off,’ Loon said.
‘Where would he go off to?’ I asked.
‘You work at Stacks. Don’t you know?’
‘Over a hundred Wugs work at Stacks,’ I said. ‘Go ask them.’
Without another word, I pulled John upstairs with me. Thankfully, Loon did not follow.
We went down for our meal as the darkness gathered across Wormwood. John and I squeezed into the last two seats as Hestia, short and thin, scurried around carrying plates. I eyed the other two Loon females, still youngs, who also laboured in the kitchen. They were also small and skinny, their faces smoky from the kitchen coal fire.
They didn’t go to Learning. This was because Cacus Loon did not believe in education for the most part. I had heard him once say that he had never gone to Learning and look how he had turned out. If that was not reason enough to read every book you could possibly get your hands on, I don’t know what was.
Cletus Loon sat next to his father. Cletus looked more like his dad every light. He was only two sessions ahead of me, but his puffy face looked older. He was always manoeuvring to get the drop on me. I worried that one time he would wise up and bully John instead. The fact that he didn’t told me he feared me too much. Fear was a great thing if it was pointed in the right direction.
We shovelled the food quickly down, and afterwards, John and I went to our room and climbed under our blankets. I waited until I heard snores coming from the others then slipped out of bed and put on my cloak. I also snagged my only sweater and my blanket. A sliver later, I was clear of the kitchen and out the rear door.
I would take great pains to make sure I was not followed.
As it turned out, I should have tried much, much harder.