Eventually the clip-clopping stopped. Edwin had grown used to the steady bouncing up and down and the occasional crack as a pebble was flicked against the underside of the hansomme. He held his breath as he listened to make sure that the journey to Out There really had come to an end.
“Where are we?” Lanthorne asked, sleepily rubbing his eyes.
Trunke folded back the hansomme flaps.
“Is this Morting?” Edwin asked eagerly.
“That’s another day’s journey up the road.”
Edwin’s face fell. Another day!
“I’ve told you I’ll get you there, and I will. For now, it’s supper and bed.” Trunke’s manner was less abrupt, if not exactly friendly, which made Edwin think a little better of him.
When the boys stumbled onto the ground beside the hansomme, their legs were so stiff they moved as if they were only just learning to walk.
It was possible to make out the shape of a large building set back from the road. Not a single ray of light escaped from it, which might mean the shutters were tightly closed against things out here in the dark. It might even be a ruin. He thought it would be in character for Trunke to expect them to sleep in a roofless shell of a building. In this country, it was probably impossible to tell what was a home and what was an abandoned dump. Bright lights and a cheerful voice saying, “Come in, your rooms are ready,” would have been lovely.
Edwin stood close to Lanthorne in case he lost him in the darkness. Above their heads—in a sky that felt heavy, as if gloominess were an actual thing that draped itself over this whole world—not a single star shone.
“Is this really an inne?” Lanthorne asked excitedly.
If he says it’s the first one he’s ever stayed in, I shall scream, Edwin thought. We’re not on a school outing.
“Now listen very carefully,” said Trunke, bringing his face to within a few inches of theirs.
Edwin couldn’t help flinching. Up close, the man looked even more as if he had just returned from a holiday in the grave.
“This place is dangerous,” Trunke said quietly and slowly. “Not risky, not unsafe. It’s very, very dangerous. You can never tell who’s passing through and what they might like to do to you.”
Edwin felt cold fingers grip his stomach. His relief that he’d moved a whole day nearer to finding his sister was swept away by this news.
Trunke prodded him sharply in his chest. “You keep quiet and cover every part of yourself, all the time. There’s no way I can explain a Shiner out here. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” said Edwin, resenting the prodding finger and wanting to prod Trunke back very hard.
“You’ll be sharing a room, but I’ll be on my own. I’m not having you shining at me all night long. Now, what are you not going to do?” He pushed Edwin backwards with another hard prod.
“Not show any part of me and not speak,” Edwin muttered. And to think he believed that Trunke was becoming friendlier. He hadn’t disliked anyone so much for a long time. Well, Auntie Necra was miles clear at the top of his unpopularity list, but Trunke was definitely in second place.
“By the way, you two are footing the bill.”
He directed the boys towards the door of the inne. “Hand over one of the purses Jugge gave you.”
Edwin poked Lanthorne’s arm. It was his friend’s turn to be robbed. Let him see how he liked it.
“Shall I give you three florines?” Lanthorne asked sweetly. It didn’t work.
“I’ll take the whole purse,” said Trunke. And he did.
Once he had pocketed the money, Trunke conducted a quick inspection of both boys. He drew their hoods so far down over their faces they could barely see their shoes and pulled the sleeves of their coats well beyond their wrists, even though Edwin had put Swarme’s gloves back on.
“We’re still taking a risk with those shoes, though,” Trunke said. “Nobody here wears shoes like that.”
“They’re really old and scruffy,” Edwin said. First Jugge and now Trunke going on about a pair of knocked-about shoes. Anyone would think he was wearing those little-girly ones with flashing coloured lights.
As he was about to open the front door, Trunke suddenly blurted out, “What am I thinking of! You can’t go inside with that on your back.”
He gave Edwin’s backpack a heavy slap. It responded with a scrunching sound.
Here we go, thought Edwin. He was prepared to put up a struggle to keep possession of the backpack, but it was a huge disadvantage having it slung behind him.
“You’ve no right to take it!” Lanthorne squared up to Trunke, putting his hands on his hips and looking like a puppy challenging a bulldog. “It’s got his baby sister’s toys in it, and I expect you’ve just broken them all.”
Trunke muttered a few sounds that weren’t quite words. He wasn’t used to being told off by puppies. “I didn’t say he couldn’t keep it. I said he couldn’t wear it on his back. It’s too different and it’ll draw attention. Those colours.”
“Dark burgundy and taupe,” said Edwin. He was so glad it wasn’t bright yellow and sporting a crazy logo.
“He can carry it in front of him, with his arms wrapped all the way round it. Or leave it in the hansomme.”
“I’ll carry it,” said Edwin.
Their attention was diverted by a loud creak from overhead. Edwin guessed it was the inne sign swinging in a breeze they couldn’t feel. He wondered what the inne was called. The Shameless Thief, perhaps?
Once they were inside, Trunke made them stand by the door.
“Stay here,” he said, tapping a spot on the floor to show them that “here” meant “exactly here”. Then he hurried off.
Neither boy dared utter a word. Edwin clutched the backpack closely to his chest, with his face pressed into the top of it. He was afraid of what might happen if he showed even part of his face by peering around. At the very least, Trunke would probably smack him on the back of the head, but there might be other people who would want to run off with a Shiner, as Auntie Necra was doing with Mandoline.
“Everything’s paid for,” Trunke said under his breath when he returned holding two small lanthornes. “I’ve ordered a mixture of ripe and unripe food for you. They think you’re my nephews and, if anyone asks, we’re going to visit your grandmother, who’s too old to move into town.” He wouldn’t have said all this if there had been other customers nearby to overhear. Edwin’s racing heart slowed down.
Trunke pushed them quickly across the main room of the inne, through a door and into a hallway containing a staircase. The boys climbed this with a good deal of stumbling, followed a dog-leg passage to its end and eventually arrived at their small room, tucked well out of the way at the back of the inne.
As soon as he entered the bedroom, Edwin threw back his hood and took off his gloves.
“I didn’t say…” Trunke began.
“I don’t care,” said Edwin. “I was suffocating.”
Trunke grunted. “You’ve got a jar of water over there and you can have one of the lanthornes.” He put it down on the table between the two narrow beds. “I expect that door’s the toilette room. I’m going to get your food now.”
“Mine will be unripe, won’t it?” Edwin asked.
“I explained that one of you’s a very fussy eater. They laughed out loud and said I should be firmer with you. I won’t be long. There’s to be no noise and no coming outside or I’ll drive straight back to Landarn and leave you.”
Edwin sat on the nearest bed, and placed the backpack beside him.
Trunke paused by the door. “Remember what I’ve told you. And lock up after me.”
As they heard his footsteps marching down the passage, the boys at last found something to smile at.
“How did you know what was in here?” Edwin said, pointing to his backpack.
“I didn’t know. I guessed. It’s what I’d put in my bag if I was trying to find my baby sister.”
“Well guessed, you,” Edwin told him. “It certainly shut Trunke up.”
Lanthorne felt forgiven. He lay full-length on his bed, his hands behind his head. “This is almost as comfortable as my bed at home,” he said. “I like this room.”
Edwin’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. Lying down on his own bed, he could feel the coarseness of the single blanket, and the pillowcase was already chafing the back of his neck. The room was like every other room he had seen in this world—rough walls and floor and furnishings with barely a trace of colour. Did these people realize they were living in sheds? And whatever lurked in the toilette room was making its malodorous presence felt from a distance of ten feet.
Their food was a long time coming.
“Do you think I should open the door and look outside, Edwin?”
“He told us not to.”
“He promised he’d be back soon.”
What if Trunke was already on his way back to Landarn with a purse full of money and a big grin on his face? “I don’t think a tiny peep would hurt,” Edwin said.
Lanthorne unlocked the door and opened it a fraction. He moved only just enough of his head through the doorway to give him a one-eyed squint along the passage. After less than a minute, he locked the door again.
“I was hoping he’d left the food outside and forgotten to tell us,” he said.
“But he hadn’t.”
“No.”
The cheese triangles began to call to Edwin from his backpack. They were very persuasive.
“What could you see?” he asked Lanthorne.
“I didn’t see anything. It’s just a passage.”
“Oh. I thought there might be colourful paintings on the walls and spotlights and a thick carpet like the one you saw in my bedroom.”
Sarcasm was a sure sign that hunger was getting the better of him. He opened the backpack and ate another of the cheese triangles even if it did mean one meal fewer for Mandoline when he escaped with her.
The waiting got longer and hungrier. Edwin looked automatically at the pale spot on his wrist where his watch had once been.
“Why don’t I tell you something nice to pass the time?” Lanthorne said.
Edwin didn’t imagine there was anything Lanthorne could tell him which he would find in any way “nice”.
“All right,” he said dully.
“I think my parents are going to give me new shoes and a boxe for Nollig.”
“What’s Nollig?”
“What’s Nollig! Nollig Day’s the best day of the year. We give presents and have special food and we visit friends. If we have any. Nollig’s in a few days’ time. Don’t tell me you don’t have Nollig?”
“It sounds just like our Christmas,” Edwin said. “They’re obviously at the same time.” The memory of the brightness and joy of past Christmases made his voice tremble.
“I’ve been dropping hints all year,” said Lanthorne.
“Why do you want a box for Nollig?”
“Nollig boxes are special. They have lids with hinges. I’m hoping for one with a lock, so I can put my special possessions in it.”
“I keep mine in a box too,” said Edwin. “Hidden in a cupboard.”
“We hang up bundles of twigs for decoration, and my mum serves the food we put in the cupboard months ago to ripen.”
The “nice” moment faded with the mention of ripe food.
“I want to do something really nasty to Trunke, even if he did let me keep my backpack for the moment,” Edwin said, needing to change the subject. “I’d like to run him over with his own hansomme. Backwards and forwards at least three times, and then I’d pick my watch out of the mess.”
Lanthorne was also finding his grumbling stomach difficult to cope with. “I’m going down the passage,” he announced.
“Is it safe?” Edwin asked. He knew that, deep down, he didn’t really care if it was safe or not. They had to be sure what was going on. He pulled his hood right down over his face and put his gloves on again. He waited just inside the doorway as Lanthorne tiptoed to the end of the dim passage and disappeared.
Edwin waited. And waited. He guessed that at least twenty minutes had passed. Surely Lanthorne hadn’t run away and left him too? Was this a cruel plan to torment a Shiner for being so, well, shiny? Suddenly there was the sound of heavy footsteps, confident footsteps that didn’t care if they were heard. They certainly weren’t made by a puny boy like Lanthorne. Edwin was so shocked, he didn’t at first think to retract his head, even when the maker of the footsteps turned the corner. A tall figure was framed anonymously in the light from the single lanthorne, and it was approaching with long strides. Edwin came to his senses, pulled his head back in and managed to lock the door.
“Please don’t knock. Please don’t knock…” he whispered from the far side of his bed, where he was now crouching. The figure knocked, waited and then knocked again loudly.
“What are you playing at in there?” It was Trunke! “You shouldn’t be the one opening the door,” he said in a fierce voice when Edwin let him in. He was carrying a tray and he looked around suspiciously. “Where is he? If he’s gone off exploring…”
“He’s in the toilette room. We got very hungry while we were waiting for you, so I let him have some of my food. It disagreed with him.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Trunke. “What you lot put in your mouths would give anyone the gripes. This’ll have to do for breakfast as well.” He set the tray down on Lanthorne’s bed. “Lucky for you they had only just put some food away to ripen. It’s not what people come here to eat. Be grateful I went to the trouble, and don’t leave the room before I call for you in the morning. My room’s not far away and I’ve got the hearing of a throttlebird.”
Trunke turned his head towards the toilette-room door. “You in there. Did you hear what I just said?”
“Lanthorne’s still busy cleaning himself up,” Edwin said. “He didn’t get there in time.”
“That’s your fault. You should have waited till I came back. You’ve kept me from my supper long enough.” He pointed his finger meaningfully at Edwin and then left.
Edwin sat down beside the tray of food. He wondered whether he should have told Trunke the truth. If Lanthorne were in danger, Trunke could help him, but if Lanthorne weren’t in any danger at all and was just nosing about the inne, Trunke was bound to be angry. Knowing Lanthorne as he did, it didn’t seem a risk worth taking.
He unbuttoned his coat and started to play nervously with the zip of his anorak, moving it up and down until it snagged and he had to stop. More minutes went by and there was still no sign of Lanthorne. Edwin looked at the spot on his wrist where his watch had been. He needed to think of something else. Food.
On the tray Trunke had brought were a jug of water and two suspiciously stained wooden cups as well as two grey cloths, one at each end, covering ripe and unripe food, Edwin guessed. He slowly lifted a corner of the cloth nearest to him. A wizened nugget of bread came into view. He lifted the cloth a little higher. Now he could see a couple of shrivelled apples and a piece of cheese that resembled a sweating bar of soap. So this must be the unripe supper and breakfast. He had no intention of lifting the other cloth even a fraction. He was very hungry indeed, particularly now there was food of a sort right in front of him, but he didn’t think it would be right to tuck in until he knew his friend was safe. He stared at the world’s most unappetizing picnic and wondered how long he could hold out before attacking it.
The answer was not very long at all. He ate the bread and apples, but couldn’t face the cheese so he slid it under the cloth which covered the rest of Lanthorne’s food. He also drank more than half the water straight from the jug, pouring it directly into his mouth. The mugs looked as if they had been used to decant the water from a pond, or worse.
There was a knock at the door, a delicate scrape made by fingers not wanting to draw attention to the sound they made.
“Edwin, it’s me.”
Edwin hurried to unlock the door.
Lanthorne ran in, unharmed and strangely excited. “I need to calm down,” he gasped. “Oh, Edwin, you’ll never believe what… Food!” He whisked the remaining cloth from the tray.
It was exactly as Edwin had predicted. What was revealed looked as if it had been fermenting away at the bottom of a dustbin for weeks. On one side of the room, the stink in the toilette room was battering the door to be let out, and now he was presented with the sight and smell of the decomposing version of his own dried-up meal. In the face of brown, squishy apples, bread marbled with streaks of green and cheese too appalling to describe, all Edwin could do was to throw himself onto his bed and bury his face in his pillow. “Eat it quickly,” he said. “I think I’m going to die!”
The pillow turned out to be quite an effective gas mask and Edwin hoped that if Lanthorne put all the titbits from hell inside him, the smell would mostly disappear with them.
Eventually there came a gentle tap on Edwin’s shoulder. Lanthorne dropped onto the bed beside Edwin, beaming with delight. It was the first time Edwin had seen Lanthorne’s tiny discoloured teeth so close up. Unfortunately, they were still smeared with the putrid mush he had been guzzling. Edwin clenched his eyes shut. Concerned for his friend, Lanthorne leant over and brought his face close to Edwin’s. He breathed out, making Edwin gasp.
“Get away! Get away RIGHT NOW!”
Confused, Lanthorne went back to his own bed and sat there waiting patiently for Edwin to tell him what he’d done wrong.
“It’s not you, Lanthorne. It’s your food. Please, please never breathe it over me again.”
“If I have to live on ripe food while I’m here, I won’t survive. Nor will Mandoline.”
Lanthorne couldn’t in all honesty understand why Edwin was making such a fuss. He hated unripe food, but you wouldn’t catch him screaming at his friends if they ate it in front of him. He was also desperate to tell Edwin what had happened when he went exploring.
“Are you ready for my news?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
Lanthorne jumped up and clapped his hands together. “I’ve seen Swarme. My brother Swarme! I’ve seen him. He’s here in this inne with us.”