LAND STEPPED FORWARD, PREPARED BUT UNWILLING to attack. But the man’s snarls appeared to be just a show for the tavern drinkers. For he didn’t throw Delphi to the ground. Instead, he came outside with her and let her down gently. He was dressed in a flat grey woollen cap and a deep-green woollen coat to his knees. He wore a pair of metal-rimmed glasses, his white eyebrows arching high above their frames. He had sparkling green eyes and deep frown lines carved, like the number eleven, into the space above his nose.

“What are you doing?” said Oland.

“I’m sorry,” said the man, addressing Delphi. “I was alarmed by what you said inside.”

Delphi stared at him. “Why? Who are you?”

He lowered his voice. “Because you’re not the first person to have asked for Chancey the Gold this week. And the men who were looking for him did not strike me as men a young girl like you would like to meet on a dark night.”

“Please tell us who you are,” said Oland.

“My name is Pinfrock. I work here in Galenore.” He pointed down a side street. He glanced left and right. “Two men came here, it must have been four days ago… and the difference is that they found the man Chancey the Gold.”

“What did these men look like?” said Delphi.

Pinfrock described Wickham and Croft.

“I’m warning you,” said Pinfrock, “because… I know that they were Villius Ren’s men… The Craven Lodge have been to Galenore before.”

“Do you know why Chancey the Gold was here?” said Delphi.

“I expect you’ve heard that the smelting fires won’t hold because of the high winds,” said Pinfrock. “So the mines aren’t operating. Many men have gone to the hills to try to fix this – to try to build shelters around the fires.” As he spoke, he held his hat on his head with one hand. “They need to get the mines started up again.”

“And you think Chancey the Gold came here to help them?” said Delphi.

“Certainly some of the older miners, ones who had followed Chancey the Gold in his competition days, mentioned that he had been there.”

“Do you know where the men took Chancey?” said Delphi.

“I know merely the rumour,” said Pinfrock. “These men were overheard saying that they would take him to Dallen Falls,” he said. “But he resisted fiercely.”

“And this was four days ago,” said Delphi.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, from around the corner the young cook appeared.

“Run!” shouted Oland, scrambling for Delphi’s arm. “Run!”

They ran, the cook struggling behind them.

Delphi looked back at Pinfrock, as Oland swept her up in his panic. “Thank you, Mr Pinfrock,” she said. “Thank you!” As she glanced to the right she was relieved to see Malen running across the rooftop, alongside them.

 

Oland and Delphi stopped when there was no more commotion behind them, and retreated into a quiet alley.

“What was that all about?” said Delphi.

“I employed Malben as a distraction and fetcher of food,” said Oland. “Sadly, he appears empty of paw.”

“Never mind,” said Delphi, rubbing Malben’s head. “Never mind.”

“There is something about that Pinfrock,” said Oland. “Something that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

“Something bad?” said Delphi.

“Something familiar,” said Oland.

Delphi’s thoughts had strayed. “If Chancey the Gold was resisting going back to The Falls, it was because of me… it was because he thought I would be there.”

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault,” said Oland. “And Chancey the Gold made his own choice to come to Galenore in the first place, remember.”

Delphi paused. “The thing is,” she said, “My father was a very kind man, but I still don’t know why he would have come to Galenore to help with the mines.”

“This is us taking the word of a man we don’t even know,” said Oland. He paused. “Pinfrock!” he said suddenly. He jumped up, opened his bag and pulled out The Ancient Myths of Envar. Along with his play, The Banon Servant, it had been soaked on his journey through The Falls, but had since dried. The pages were now yellowed, stiff and rippled, but the ink was pristine. And on the back cover, clearly visible, was the printer’s stamp: a small circle surrounding the words: ‘Printer: Pinfrock of Galenore’.

Oland’s heart pounded; if Pinfrock printed The Ancient Myths of Envar, it meant that he had worked for King Micah. It was an official publication of the Kingdom of Decresian, and it was printed during King Micah’s reign. It also meant that, more than likely, Pinfrock was around in the time of Archivist Samuel Ault, and may even have met him or printed his writings. Oland wondered if Pinfrock could even know Tristan Ault, the possible guardian of the Decresian census and so the key to the identity of his parents.

“We need to go back and speak to Pinfrock,” said Oland. “He pointed down a side street when he mentioned he worked here. It’s the best place to start.”