Page 6 of The Neverfear

Nighthand nodded. ‘The Senate arrives in Lithia in three days. I will go then.’

‘An’ take measures to defend this place. Yer security’s very lax – I sailed straigh’ in. You should be grateful I’ve such an honest soul.’ Then, abruptly, Vigo changed the subject. ‘Nice little palace you go’ here, Nighthand.’

‘Thank you.’ Nighthand did not smile. ‘I love the view.’

‘Ach, I hate views. Too hard to steal. But that old pile mus’ be full o’ treasures.’ His hand drifted to the knife at his side.

‘I’m no longer in the treasure business, Vigo,’ said Nighthand. Christopher saw the Berserker’s own hand float to the glamry blade at his waist. ‘You’re welcome to stay for the feast. But know that I’ll be keeping watch.’

‘Aye, watch me. I’m going to go dance.’ Vigo Nex strode away, his gold belt jangling. He called over his shoulder: ‘Great party, Nighthand. Reminds me o’ my great-aunt’s funeral.’ And then, looking hard at Christopher: ‘Come see me in Freondell, lad. I’ve a party on Friday: a Pirate Hectic. I’ll show you wha’ a good time really looks like.’

Nighthand gave a snort, the kind of snort in which a great many words were implied, none of them printable.

‘You have just met the least trustworthy man in the Archipelago.’

‘He seemed a real sweetheart,’ said Christopher.

‘If you shake his hand, you count your fingers afterwards,’ said Nighthand. ‘But if something has worried Vigo Nex enough to make him come to me, it’s worth worrying about. I’ve heard bad stories in the last few weeks. This confirms them.’

‘He wasn’t just worried,’ said Anya. ‘He was scared. I saw his eyes when he was talking about the tiger.’

‘We should tell Irian,’ said Christopher.

‘No,’ said Nighthand. ‘Don’t ruin her night. We will tell her after the feast. It’s Midsummer! We will celebrate!’

‘Where is Irian?’ said Christopher.

Nighthand pretended to look around him, shielding his eyes with one hand. He did it so fantastically unconvincingly that Christopher realised that at no point tonight had Fidens Nighthand not known where Irian Guinne was.

‘Ah! I see her, at last and after much endeavour!’

She was at the centre of an eager throng, dressed in a dark blue gown, her black braids wound around her head like a coronet. They had streaks of silver in them, for she had nereid blood. The elderly professor was trying to attract her attention, a small bunch of flowers in hand.

‘Shall we go and check that she is enjoying herself?’ said Nighthand. He crossed to her so fast he nearly trampled a borometz underfoot. They spoke, his head bent to hers. And then he smiled, and turned to the company with a roar. ‘To Midsummer table!’

The Feast

There was a great surge to sit down. A crowd of waiters hired for the day came marching across the lawn, holding aloft dish after dish of food: fish seared to perfection, steaming pigeon pies, great ribs of meat, and – Nighthand’s proudest new invention – a pineapple and herring soufflé.

The feast was spectacular. Never had Christopher eaten such food – prawns in a honey-spiced sauce, pies so tall and dense they required both hands to lift a slice. Dessert followed, the four cakes accompanied by eighteen flavours of ice cream – among them strawberry, elderflower, chocolate, cucumber, and steak. Anya refused to eat anything other than the chocolate and strawberry, but Christopher tried them all.

‘The cucumber one,’ he said, ‘really isn’t that bad.’

‘The steak one?’

‘Tastes like licking in between someone else’s toes.’

‘Then why by the Immortal are you still eating it?’

‘Because Nighthand’s watching.’ And he grinned at Nighthand, who, he noticed, was feverishly combing his hair with his fingers. Then Ratwin came lolloping up to Nighthand, a small velvet box in her mouth.

‘Ready-ups, is you?’

‘As ready as I can be.’

‘The best of luckingtons, old friend.’

As soon as the final plates were cleared, Nighthand rose to his feet. He gently tapped his fork against his glass for silence. Nighthand’s gently was not the same as other people’s gently, and it exploded, scattering glass over his hands. He barely seemed to notice.