A Change In The Weather

Chapter 35: Boaz

10 February, 2008 – 10:55 pm

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Listen!’ he shushed, and cupped a hand to his ear, trying hard to concentrate on the tiny sound that had sparked his attention.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked, sending a worried look to Scarlet, who just shrugged her shoulders instead.

‘What?’ she said, disinterestedly.

‘But it sounded like another gun shot though,’ he whispered.

Scarlet nodded.

‘So? It’s probably those maniacs again,’ she said, miserably. ‘We’ll probably get shot too and that will be that.’

If Thomas was honest with himself, he was surprised. Scarlet had never looked so miserable, or shown a lack of interest in anything he’d said or done before, but at the same time he understood what she was going through. If he’d been in her shoes, he’d probably be feeling a lot of guilt about what had happened to Torfang. But he decided to let it lie, and instead grabbed her hand and held on to it tightly.

To his relief, she looked down and winked at him, which made him feel better, but only a little.

‘Haha, very funny,’ he mumbled.

What he had difficulty understanding was why they were still wasting their time inside the house. Surely, it would have been a better idea to put as much distance between them and the Fiery Brand as possible. The dragon egg was all that they should be concerning themselves with.

‘Come on, please don’t stop,’ urged Hillary. ‘We have precious little time left fordawdling.’

Edgar guided them along a dimly lit stone-paved passageway until they finally arrived at the large oak door at the end of the corridor, where he stopped and turned to face them.

‘This is the study where the master spends most of his time.’ he said.

He rummaged around in his jacket pocket for something and pulled out a large bunch of keys, which jangled as his shaking hands tried to select one.

‘It has only been relatively recently that his character has changed. At first I mistook it for depression, but soon came to realise there must be an altogether different explanation. Do any of you know Ichabod, the local vicar?’

‘You could say that I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to him.’ muttered Tobias, sarcastically, from the back.

Edgar nodded. ‘Well, he too has changed. He doesn’t acknowledge me anymore, and when he does he looks uncomfortable. Where as before he was the most jovial and endearing person you could ever wish to meet, now it’s almost as if he doesn’t know who I am.’

‘Well, you’re right in one regard,’ said Hillary.

Edgar lifted an eyebrow in anticipation. ‘Oh? What do you mean?’

‘He doesn’t know who you are.’

Edgar continued to look at him confused, as if waiting for a further explanation.

Hillary sensed this, and carried on. ‘He isn’t the person you think he is.’

But Edgar still looked puzzled.

‘Ok, well I don’t want to go into too much detail here and now,’ said Hillary, ‘but these people you are describing are doppelgangers. They’ve taken the appearance of your master and certain other people of the village, so that they can lay low and not arouse suspicion while they bide their time and go about their business.’

The butler looked horrified. ‘My God, what business? Are you suggesting that they’re criminals? But if he isn’t who I think he is, then where is the true master of Winterton Hall?’

‘Well, that is something that I can’t help you with I’m afraid,’ replied Hillary, and then he recalled his trip to the undertaker’s and the basement where he’d literally come face-to-face with the statue of Gideon.

‘Actually, I don’t suppose you’ve seen any statues anywhere?’

Edgar nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said, slightly bemused at the question. ‘It’s funny, but now you come to mention it, he did have some commissioned of himself and the family.’

‘And have you seen these statues?’

‘No, but the master has them locked away in one of the upstairs rooms until a special place can be found for them within the grounds. Which, if I must be absolutely truthful, sounded highly odd at the time.’

Hillary allowed himself a wry smile. ‘I think you’ll find that the answer lies there old chap,’ he said, patting Edgar on the back.

‘I’m still not entirely sure I follow you though,’ replied Edgar, still puzzled.

Hillary shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it will all become apparent in the future.’

Edgar looked thoughtful for a moment then turned to the door and unlocked it. The door groaned as he pushed it open.

* * * *

Gideon turned to Godfrey with a stern expression.

‘You do realise that the owl that took the flute was the old watcher woman?’ he spat. ‘What are we going to do now?’

‘You will follow me to the great hall,’ smiled Godfrey.

‘And what about us?’ asked Augustus.

‘You two will take the Cockatrice around to the rear entrance,’ instructed Godfrey, ‘where I will meet you in good time. We will then bring it into the house and along the service corridor until you arrive at the stage in the Great Hall.’

‘And then what?’ asked Augustus.

‘I need to unveil something to our guests.’

Ichabod seemed flustered. ‘But we’ve got the egg!’ he hissed. ‘We should be concentrating on the incantation! I don’t want to spend another minute as I am, I want this curse ended. Now!’

‘Patience,’ smiled Godfrey. ‘I’m sure another few minutes won’t hurt. There are some lose ends that I want to tidy up first.’

Godfrey smirked as they both entered the tunnel, and for a few brief seconds the air was filled with the sound of Gideon’s callous laughter.

* * * *

Even before Hillary flicked the light switch on, he recognised the significance of the scent of jasmine that lingered in the air, and instantly his mind was taken back to the little house off Watling Street in thirteenth century London. As Eliza entered behind him, she recalled the smell from the night the cloaked stranger came to visit her on All Hallows Eve over six months ago. And Tobias’s memory had recollections of the time he went to check out the theft of the gargoyle at the church. Even Scarlet and Thomas realised it was the same smell that they’d noticed when the hooded man came to steal Hillary’s books whilst they both hid in the windmill. Apart from the jasmine, the wood-panelled room also reeked of leather and tobacco.

Along one of the walls, books adorned every available surface, towering to the ceiling, and tumbling across to the far side of the room, where an ornate desk sat in front of large leaded windows.

Thomas pushed his nose against the little leaded diamonds and stared towards Bracken Wood in the far distance. The stack of smoke from their burning home still reached high into the sky and minute amber lights flickered and flashed periodically as more emergency vehicles arrived to help extinguish the blaze.

‘Something’s on fire in the wood,’ he said idly, to himself, his breath misting up part of the window.

Nearer to Winterton Hall, on the brow of the hill, the little stone circle still imprisoned the silhouette of Torfang, who sat silent and immobile amidst the stones in the cold of the night. Thomas looked closer, and noticed a couple of figures making their way towards the house. He thought he saw something else with them, but it was too dark and he couldn’t be sure what it was. He turned away from the window and walked back to Scarlet.

‘They’re coming,’ he said, quietly.

‘Who are?’ demanded Scarlet with a frown.

‘You know - the weirdos. I think I just saw them creeping about outside. I reckon we’re going to get caught if we’re not careful. I really don’t want to be here anymore.’

‘Me neither,’ replied Scarlet, holding Thomas’ hand tightly. ‘Me neither.’

Hillary and Eliza stood in the middle of the room looking at Edgar.

Eliza turned her head to Hillary, and whispered into his ear. ‘Will you please tell me what we are doing here?’ she said, her voice laced with impatience. ‘We should be on our way to the barrow to protect the egg surely…’

Hillary nodded in agreement.

‘So what are you going to show us?’ he asked. ‘I’m afraid we happen to be in the awful predicament of needing to be in different places at the same time.’

Edgar shuffled off to the bookshelf and squinted at the rows upon rows of volumes.

‘Sorry, if you could just bear with me please. I’ll try to be quick.’

He traced a line with his fingers over the spines of the books as if searching for something in particular.

‘Ah, here we are,’ he said, eventually, his finger coming to rest over a book.

He nudged his spectacles back to the bridge of his nose, and pulled the volume down. It pivoted and something creaked.

‘It’s through here.’ he said, disappearing into the concealed door that had just sprung open.

Hillary raised an eyebrow and popped his head through into the secret room.

‘What’s through here then?’ he asked, ducking his head to enter, followed by the rest.

Edgar pointed to the corner of the room.

‘That.’

A glass vase stood on the table. Inside was a thick smoke that swirled and writhed. As Hillary watched, the shapeless mass of gas coalesced into a face and then broke apart to reform as various animal shapes. After a while it collapsed but continued to churn away angrily inside the glass, sometimes quickly, sometimes lazily, but never still, always moving.

‘Is this what you wanted us to see?’ asked Hillary.

‘What on earth is it though?’ asked Edgar, staring at the vase with distrust and uncertainty. ‘Is this the reason why he’s acting so strange? Is this the answer?’

Hillary shook his head wearily. ‘No. I’m afraid not.’

‘It’s the mist.’ cried Eliza, with a shudder.

Hillary nodded. ‘Yes, if I’m not mistaken this is the mist that Godfrey was controlling. He’s using it to do his bidding, the poor creature.’

‘Creature? Are you suggesting that this smoke is somehow alive?’ said Edgar, horrified at the implication.

‘Of-course it’s alive.’ said Hillary. ‘It’s a Djinn. I’d be inclined to release it, but I have no idea if it’s allied to anyone, or even if it’s at all friendly.’

And then a sad, hollow voice spoke from the glass container. The words drifted around the room as if they had nowhere to go. They sounded ancient. And although the words were spoken in Arabic, Hillary nodded and understood perfectly.

‘Release? Ah, I’d almost forgotten how perfect that word sounds…’

Hillary stepped up to the glass container and stood there, staring at the mist within. As he approached, the mist swirled faster and faster, as if it were somehow excited.

The hollow voice spoke in Arabic once more.

‘I have been kept a slave here against my will for the past few months. With the passing of every day, I wish for one thing and one thing only: deliverance. Deliverance from this none-existence…’

Hillary bowed before the vase, and responded in perfect Arabic, much to everyone’s surprise.

‘Peace be to you, oh spirit of the air.’ he said, bowing before the vase.

‘And peace be upon you too.’

Hillary nodded, and considered something for a moment before speaking.

‘If I release you,’ he began, ‘will you promise to return to your homeland and not serve this traitor who has enslaved you?’

‘If only you could release me human. Alas, I cannot even promise to return as I have no free-will. I was tricked by the master of this house. I was summoned, then bound and a ward of slavery placed upon me. I cannot leave his influence even if I wished it. And you cannot begin to know how much I wish it.

Hillary put the vase down gently, and stroked his beard and thought some more. ‘A ward of slavery, eh? Well we’ll see about that,’ said Hillary, sternly.

‘What is your name?’

The Djinn laughed. The sound echoed around the room.

‘My name? I’m afraid my real name is unpronounceable to the ears of humankind, so it matters not, although in the past I have been known by many names. But you may know me as Boaz.’

‘Well, Boaz, if you can keep perfectly still for a moment, I would like your permission to try something.’ said Hillary.

He nodded to the vase, and began muttering words under his breath that were not English, but altogether more ancient. Strange foreign-sounding vowels spilled out of his mouth, blended with bizarre gutturals and precise consonants that sounded like no language on earth.

When he’d finished, he made a sign in the air over the glass container and walked away to the table to sit down.

‘Is that it human? I feel no different.’

‘There. It is done,’ he said, sounding exhausted. Hillary rested, and gestured towards the window.‘Pull the stopper from the glass Tobias and open the windows.’

Tobias did so, his fingers trembling with anticipation. As the stop came out, tiny wisps of smoke started to diffuse into the air, then he rushed to the window, unlatched it and pushed it open.

‘I am forever indebted to your kindness and mercy. Praise Allah, and may peace and blessing be upon you, where ever you may be.’

As he spoke the words, Boaz the Djinn drifted out through the window and into the clear night sky to the bright, sweet song of a Nightingale.

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