The Ghastly Exchange – Episode 11

I stirred at the sound of the door at the end of the corridor opening, and footsteps approaching. They stopped outside my cell and I sat up on my bed to see two figures standing there. One was the constable, his face made ghostly by the late afternoon light coming from the tiny window in my cell. The other was a diminutive figure, dressed entirely in black, his hooded head no higher than the constable’s chest. His obviously too long trousers were rolled up at the ankles. A baggy cloak was wrapped around his top half with the hood pulled up to cover his head. The only spot of colour in his outfit were a pair of knitted red gloves of the sort a child would wear.

What froze my blood was that his face was hidden by a mask. All I could see were his eyes glittering through two ragged holes in the otherwise blank cloth hiding his features.

A key rattled in the lock, and the constable swung open the door, its hinges squealing like stuck pigs.

“The ‘angman’s ‘ere to see ye,” he said. “Needs to check yer collar size.” He grinned at me and added. “For the noose.”

“Yes,” said the masked figure stepping into my cell. “It wouldn’t do to have him slipping out of it tomorrow morning, eh constable?”

His voice was gruff and a little hoarse but something about its tone rang a faint bell.

That thought slipped from my mind as he walked towards me. Seated as I was, our heads were at the same height. He exuded an aura of menace as he came closer, staring fixedly at me through the eyeholes in his mask. The blood drained from my face.

“That will be all, thank you constable,” he called over his shoulder.

“Righto.” The constable shut the gate and twisted the key in the lock. “Call me when ye’re finished.”

He walked off, whistling a merry tune.

The hangman turned back towards me.

“It isn’t fair, you know,” I said, my mouth dry. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

He snorted. “Haven’t done anything wrong? Don’t make me laugh! You’ve done plenty to deserve this, believe me. The number of times you’ve–”

The hoarseness had gone from his voice. My eyebrows lifted.

“Grimmon?” I interrupted.

A red-gloved hand came up, pushed back his hood and lifted his mask. My heart leapt when I saw my goblin companion’s familiar features.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d recognised me.”

“Why in tarnation are you pretending to be a hangman?”

“I’m not pretending. There was a notice on the police station’s wall advertising for someone to replace the old hangman who’s retired.” His eyes glowed. “When I turned up dressed like this and applied for the job, how could they refuse?”

I don’t think I’d ever been so pleased to see him. “Ah, I see. You took the job so you could pay me a visit without arousing suspicion.” I patted his shoulder. “Where did you get the outfit?”

“I pieced it together from things I borrowed from washing lines on the night you crashed the bed.” He gave me a dirty look. “I hadn’t seen the notice then, of course, but I needed to cover my face and hands or I’d end up being chased by a mob, or… or put in a zoo, or worse.”

“It wasn’t my fault the bed crashed!” I frowned. “By the way, talking about that, why did you skedaddle and leave me lying in the road for the police to find?”

He wrinkled his nose in that shifty manner of goblins. “We don’t have time to waste talking about the past. The important thing is I’m here now.”

“You’re right.” I stood up and rubbed my hands together. “So, how are you going to get me out of here?”

His brow furrowed. “I dunno. I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Well I haven’t! What in the world is the point of you coming here if you don’t have one yourself?”

“I’m here to measure your neck. I’ve got a job to do.”

My jaw dropped. “But you… you can’t hang me. I’m your friend.”

Grimmon grimaced and shrugged.

“I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye,” I said. “But I’ve always been… well, you know, good to you.”

It was his jaw’s turn to drop. “Good to me? Have you lost your mind? You’re rude, arrogant, condescending…”

“It’s just banter,” I said, waving my hand airily. “Surely you see that?”

“What I see is someone who’s going to have his neck stretched at dawn unless…”

“I knew it! You were teasing! You do have a plan!” I grabbed his shoulders and gave him my most earnest-and-forgiving look. “So, tell me! What is it?”

“First you have to promise to treat me as an equal from now on. And promise other things as well.”

“What other things?” I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow.

“We’re wasting time. Do you want to get out of here or not?”

“Yes, obviously. But–”

“No buts. Just make the promise.”

I put my hand behind my back and crossed my fingers. “All right! I promise to… oh, you know, do those things you said.”

Grimmon nodded. “Good. So, here’s what we’ll–”

He broke off at the sound of the corridor door opening and the constable calling down the passageway. “Everything all right in there? You must ‘ave finished measurin’ ’is neck by now.”

Grimmon flipped his hood back over his head and pulled his mask back down. “All done, constable. Thank you.”

“Wait!” I stretched out my arm towards him. “What’s your plan? Are you going to steal the keys? Sneak in tonight and let me out?”

“No. Why make things complicated?” He spoke in a whisper, peering at me through the eyeholes of his mask. “At midnight, you cast a spell to unlock the doors and I’ll be waiting for you outside with a horse. Be quiet, though. The sergeant lives in an apartment above the station.”

I was about to tell him the problem I was having with casting spells but my tongue froze as the constable arrived, twisted his key in the lock and swung open the cell’s door.

It clanged shut behind Grimmon and he and the constable left. My knuckles turned white as I balled my hands into fists.

What was I to do?

I didn’t have a huge number of options. The only chance I had was to get my memory working again.

Hours passed with me pacing up and down, slapping my palms against my scalp in an effort to pummel my mind into recalling the pages of my spellbook once again.

At one point it struck me I hadn’t thought to ask Grimmon how many days had passed since I’d been locked up. The castle usually stayed on a world for two weeks, but it had been known to leave a day or two earlier. Or later.

How long before the castle moved on to another world?

I ground my teeth and paced faster, rapping my knuckles against my forehead.

Time passed with town’s church bells tolling each hour like hollow-voiced prophets of disaster. It didn’t seem to take long before their count reached eleven.

My movements became frenzied as I stumbled about my cell, raging at my failed memory, the countess, Igor, and everything else that had happened since arriving in that godsforsaken world.

The minutes raced past and despite my efforts, no spells came to my mind.

I slumped against the wall.

There was nothing I could do to save myself. I was doomed.

A vein pulsed in my temple. I shouted an incoherent cry of frustration and banged my head against the brickwork.

Lights flashed behind my closed eyes. My mind filled with mauve mist.

I fell to my knees.

And a spell tumbled out of nowhere onto my lips.

I was vaguely aware of mumbling its arcane words and feeling the air in my cell tremble.

The mist thinned and I opened my eyes.

Standing before me, his hunched shoulders brushing the ceiling, his eyes burning with annoyance, was a muscular ogre.

In one swift movement he reached out, grabbed me by the throat, lifted me off my feet, and snarled. “Whaddaya have to go and do dat for?”

*** Continued in episode 12 ***

The Ghastly Exchange – Index of Episodes