Lord Brool

By the time Mel found his way back to the dimly lit dormitory, everyone was busy retiring for the night and paid him no attention. From the far end, where Groot slept, there came the sound of heavy, drunken snoring. As Mel sat down on the edge of his bed, Ludo’s face appeared over the partition that separated their compartments.

Great. Now he turns up.

‘Sorry, Mel, I tried to warn you when I spotted Cook coming,’ Ludo whispered sheepishly. ‘I only just had time to hide myself. There was no point in the two of us getting caught, was there? It’s not as if the punishment would have been halved if two people had to suffer. Besides, you’re new here. They’d be bound to make allowances. You didn’t say I was involved, did you?’

‘Don’t worry, Ludo, I didn’t mention you.’ Ludo had let him down, but he was still the only friend he had in this strange new world.

‘Thanks. If my family ever heard of this I’d really be in for it. By the way, what did you get as a punishment?’

‘One month’s loss of privileges and stipend, whatever they are.’

‘Privileges are permission to go out and about in the city every Sunday. The stipend’s like pocket money. It doesn’t amount to much though, only one silver piece per year.’

One silver piece sounded like a fortune to Mel, who had only ever seen copper coins – and never too many of those either.

He undressed and climbed into bed, feeling miserable and betrayed. He thought about his parents and Fa Theum and hoped that they had not suffered any more at the hands of Adolfus Spute. He wished he had had time to talk with his father before Dirk Tot had whisked him away. And then his thoughts turned to his new life. He would have the opportunity to study the many paintings that hung around the mansion. One day he would even create some of his own. In spite of his hunger, he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.

At the same time, high in one of the lofty towers of the House of Mysteries, a heated meeting was taking place. Adolfus Spute and his dwarf, Mumchance, weary and travel-stained, cowered before the huge bulk of Lord Brool. The Lord-High-Master of the Fifth Mystery sat, toad-like, at his desk. A single lamp illuminated Lord Brool’s face, its flickering, yellowish glow emphasising his warts and bloated features. The Master was angry; very angry.

‘Lost it! What do you mean, lost it?’ he bellowed. Flecks of spittle hung at the corners of his mouth. His complexion almost matched that of his scarlet robes. The silver goblet of wine he was holding buckled in his grasp.

‘It was definitely with us when we arrived in Kop. Wasn’t it, Mumchance?’ Adolfus Spute glanced nervously at his diminutive companion for support.

Mumchance nodded.

‘Yes it was. But after we packed away the Instruments of Interpellation the box no longer seemed to be there. It was, in a word, gone,’ the High-Bailiff confessed.

‘It was such a simple task, Spute; I could have sent a child to do it. Perhaps I should have sent a child. An infant could not have made more of a mess than you incompetents have done. All you had to do was pay a visit to that meddling fool Floris and persuade him to return the Fifth Mystery’s property.’

‘Just so, cousin.’ Adolfus Spute hoped that playing on their kinship might help to mitigate his superior’s ire. ‘But Lord Floris was most reluctant to be parted from the substance. He needed to be persuaded to within an inch of his life. Could a child have achieved that, I ask myself?’

Lord Brool’s tiny eyes bored into his subordinate. ‘Your persuasive powers, Spute, are not in question. What is in question is your trustworthiness. To misplace such a treasure seems to me almost disloyal. Disloyal to the point of treachery. The Fifth Mystery expects more from its servants. It expects much more. Do I make myself clear?’

Adolfus Spute’s mouth was moving but no words were coming out.

‘So, seeing as it was you who lost it, it only seems reasonable to expect that you should restore it before the next meeting of the High-Council. Otherwise, we might review your current position.’

‘But, my lord ….’ Finding his voice again, Adolfus Spute realised he was in no position to object. ‘As your lordship wishes.’

‘And you have yet to explain exactly what you were doing in such a god-forsaken province as Feg in the first place. If I thought that you were pursuing your own, private ends – your personal vendetta against Dirk Tot, perhaps?’

Adolfus Spute’s mouth dropped open.

‘Oh, I know all about the history between you two, Spute. I know that you’ve been trying to entrap him for years, and he’s thwarted you at every turn. Perhaps I should also bring this episode to the attention of the High-Council. We would take a very dim view of such dereliction of duty on the part of our High-Bailiff.’

Adolfus Spute swallowed hard.

‘Do I make myself clear, Spute? I’m sure I do. Now, get out! And don’t let me see you again until you have it back.’

As he reached the relative safety of the anteroom and his two waiting henchmen, Adolfus Spute rounded on Mumchance and kicked him viciously, bowling him over. ‘You were in charge of the box, you snivelling fraction of a man. How could you have let it out of your sight?’

Mumchance picked himself up and blew a series of notes on his whistle.

‘What? Of course I was going to keep some for myself. It’s me who should be Lord-High-Master, not that beslubbering, toad-featured scut in there.’

Mumchance’s tiny eyes twinkled and he blew a triumphant note.

‘You’re right, “Lord Spute” does have a certain ring to it.’ The High-Bailiff bared his yellow teeth in a repulsive smile. Then his face darkened. ‘But now I’m right back at square one. I need to get my hands on it all over again.’ He looked down at Mumchance. ‘Now, where do you suppose it went?’

The dwarf blew a positive blast.

‘Yes, that’s what I thought too.’

Mumchance piped a tuneless warble.

‘Succinctly put, my murderous midget. There’s no chance of getting our hands on Smell while he’s under Blenk’s protection.’

Mumchance’s whistle blew again.

‘Great minds think alike, my little man. The Fegish boy might be induced to leave the mansion if I chose the right bait.’ He turned to his henchmen. ‘You two are looking a bit peaky, a trifle run-down. I think you could do with a holiday. In the country, maybe. I hear Feg is rather lovely at this time of year. And while you’re there, why don’t you look up some old acquaintances of ours in Kop – the Womper couple and that disgusting old priest, Theum. I’m sure they would love to see their darling little boy again. We’ll organise a family reunion.’