HE FOLLOWING MORNING, WITH LITTLE SLEEP BEHIND him, Oland woke to a space alight with morning sun. Specks of dust danced in the shafts. As he made his way into the main hall, birds of all colours were circling the top of the oak tree and through the roof the sky was a dense bright blue. As Oland turned away from the glare, through the silver spots that dotted his vision he saw a small shape moving between the lower branches. The monkey, Malben! Persistent Malben. And he was carrying Oland’s bag on his back.

Oland laughed, and it sounded loud to him, perhaps because of the acoustics, perhaps because it was rare. Malben jumped on him. Oland took hold of the monkey and held him at arm’s length. Malben tilted his head and Oland found himself doing the same. At close quarters, Oland could see that Malben’s eyes, clear and shining, were not brown, but a dark shade of green. His golden grey fur stood in flyaway spikes, but was soft under Oland’s hands. Malben held eye contact with him and Oland could swear his tiny mouth almost smiled.

“It’s time to go,” said Oland. “As it is time for me to stop talking to a monkey.”

 

The journey to The Falls had to be taken on foot, so they cut through fields and skirted the edges of villages and towns. Oland had decided that the only thing he was prepared to steal was food, though Malben was the better thief. He mostly stayed hidden in Oland’s bag and jumped to the trees whenever he could. Oland missed the comfort of the roof over his head every night. Now, every evening ended with a search for shelter, or the task of building it. He had been wakened by short torrential showers and followed by more of the grey thickening clouds that Terrence, the merchant of misery, had mentioned. As the days dragged on, Oland began to miss even the scant conversation with Arthur Rynish. Unlike food, company could not be stolen. At times, Oland talked to Malben. There were times when he felt he would talk back. They were the times Oland decided to rest.

 

*

 

A week passed before they reached Dallen Falls. Oland had imagined its full glory being unveiled in daylight. Instead, they arrived at nightfall, and he heard the thunderous water before he could see it. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw, against the dark grey of the sky, the giant black shadows of the cliffs, and the cascades that plunged down from them. Oland took out his tinderbox and, with a few strikes of steel against flint, the char-cloth ignited and he could light the lantern that Malben had found discarded on their journey.

One house stood by The Falls, clearly built from the stones of the cliffs beside it – grey and gold and white. Oland hadn’t expected such a humble home for a man the Scryer of Gort had predicted would destroy Villius Ren.

The garden was overgrown, not with weeds, but with plants and flowers in bursts of bright colours. It was a curious sight beside such treacherous waters. Malben took to the trees. Oland went to the red wooden door of the house and knocked. There was no answer. He walked around the side. He shone his lantern into the small windows, but the rooms were empty. Then he heard a rattling sound coming from the back of the house. He followed it around and discovered another red door with splintered edges, held to its frame by a thick knotted coil of rope that had been loosened by the force of the wind. Oland knew that his knife was not strong enough to cut through it.

He looked towards The Falls. Suddenly, one of the cascades seemed to stop flowing. Oland kept watching, and the water flowed again. For almost an hour, Oland watched as all the way along The Falls, parts of the cascades stopped, then restarted, like keys played on a piano. When the spectacle was over, he sat down on the front step of the house, and watched as Malben swung back and forth through the trees.

“You lead a simple life, Mr Malben,” he said.

As he fell silent again, he saw that the cascade closest to them had stopped. Too curious to ignore it, he walked down. It was a breathtaking sight. Malben, seemingly terrified by the roaring torrents, let out a yelp and disappeared. Oland moved closer to the water, mesmerised by its force.

He heard the sound of cracking twigs not more than six feet away.

He waited. Again, he heard the sound.

“Is… somebody there?” said Oland.

“Yes.” It was a girl’s voice, coming from behind a tree, where a light was glowing.

“Who are you?” said Oland, walking towards the tree and trying to look around it.

“Who are you?” said the girl. “You’re the trespasser.”

“My name is Oland Born. I’m from the Kingdom of Decresian.”

“My name is Delphi.”

“What are you doing here in the dark?” said Oland.

She stepped out from behind the tree holding a lantern. Her dark eyes shone in the flame. She had flawless skin and choppy coal-black hair to the nape of her neck. The girls in Derrington had hair to their waists, and wore wool dresses to their ankles. Delphi wore loose grey trousers, with a black leather belt wrapped twice around her narrow waist and a grey top that slid off one shoulder. Over that, she wore a long, hooded oilskin cape that fell to the ground and almost covered her black boots.

“You’re the girl from the arena!” said Oland. “The girl who was thrown out.”

“I am,” said Delphi. “No girls allowed.”

“So what were you doing there?” said Oland.

“What were you doing there?” said Delphi.

Oland realised that she had not recognised him, and for that he was grateful. When he thought of what he had done, he felt nothing but shame at the ease with which he had killed. “I… well, I was there to… watch,” he said.

“As was I,” said Delphi. Her eyes seemed to grow even darker.

“So…” she said. “Why have you come to Dallen?”

Oland hesitated. “Do you know Chancey the Gold?”

“I know of him,” said Delphi. “In that he lives at one side of The Falls. I live at the other.”

“Have you seen him?” said Oland.

“Many times,” said Delphi.

“Have you seen him today?” said Oland.

Delphi shook her head. “Why are you looking for him?”

“I’d rather not say,” said Oland. “Where has he gone?”

“I don’t know,” said Delphi.

“Has he got any family?” said Oland.

She shook her head. “No. He has no one. He lives alone.”

“I… hadn’t expected this,” said Oland. “I came here just assuming I would meet Chancey the Gold.”

“What made you think that?” said Delphi. “And, more importantly, how much time do you think you have on the border guards?”