The Ghastly Exchange – Episode 2

The cup of coffee on the table in front of Countess Virrellenta remained untouched. She’d barely glanced at it when the waiter had brought our order, despite his hands shaking so badly the crockery had clattered when he’d taken the cups from his tray. He’d mumbled something, sweat trickling down his brow, and had hurried away before I could reprimand him.

Remembering his odd behaviour, I resolved he’d not get a tip from me and turned my attention back to Vir.

Sipping my coffee as she talked, I gazed again at her fine features and aristocratic bearing wondering how we could have previously met as she’d claimed.

She didn’t look familiar to me at all. Was what she had said true? Had the castle visited this world before? I didn’t recognise the place, but then in my lifetime the castle has taken me, and everyone else in it, to far too many worlds to remember them all. Still, it was an extraordinary claim and had pulled the rug out from under me… It meant it was possible we could return to Trewla’s world one day. That thought made my heart sink.

“So, what do you say?” she said.

I’d been so lost in my musings it took me a moment to realise Vir had asked me a question.

“Um… Yes?” I ventured.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Wonderful. You’re going to love my home.”

A sound of choking burst from Grimmon.

I turned to him with a frown of annoyance which quickly turned to alarm. His long nose and one of his eyes had joined his right ear in reverting to their true goblin form. On top of that, his cheeks were entirely green. The spell of disguise was fading fast and there was no way I could cast it again without anyone noticing.

Crumbs and cream dribbled down his chin as he mouthed ‘no’ and shook his head at me.

“Your uncle doesn’t look well,” said Vir. “Those pastries don’t appear to have agreed with him.”

Seizing the lifeline she’d unwittingly thrown to me, I said, “You’re right. Poor fellow’s taken ill.” I gave Grimmon’s chair a helpful shove with my foot. It scraped away a couple of feet across the paving. “Toddle back to our carriage and have a lie down, there’s a good chap.”

“Your carriage? Where did you leave it?” asked Vir.

“At an inn a few streets away.”

“You can’t expect your uncle to walk all that way in his condition.” Vir lifted a hand and snapped her fingers.

There was a flurry of footsteps and a short, thin man with stooped shoulders and black greasy hair, his eyes prominent in his pockmarked face, appeared next to our table.

He must have been lurking close by. Strange I hadn’t noticed him. Wondering what else I might have missed, I glanced around. Every table in the cafe was empty. The place had been packed when Grimmon and I had arrived.

Apart from a few distant figures who seemed to be hurrying away, the street was devoid of traffic and people. It was late afternoon so I reasoned perhaps it was customary in this town for everyone to go home for an early supper. Odd, though.

“Igor, bring my carriage around to the front of the cafe at once,” Vir said.

“Very good, my lady,” said the man. He inclined his head and walked off around the corner.

“We will take your uncle with us,” said Vir, placing her hand over mine. “You must be terribly worried about him. My servant, Igor, will care of him when we get to my house.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “He’s a tough old bird. He’s well enough to walk to the inn.”

The poor woman must have been feeling the cold terribly for her hand was like ice. “I insist,” she said.

There was something in her tone which made me hesitate. Not wanting to give the impression I was heartless, I said, “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

She smiled. I was convinced her teeth were a little longer.

I was distracted by a thudding of hooves. I looked up to see a black carriage drawn by two fine, black horses rolling around the corner towards us.

I flicked a glance at Grimmon. He was becoming greener by the second.

“My poor, dear uncle,” I said, retrieving my hand and springing to my feet. “You’re catching a chill.”

I plucked a tablecloth from a nearby table and draped it over his head, making a hood that hid his face in its shadows.

“There. That will keep you warm,” I said.

The carriage pulled to stop and Igor clambered down from the driver’s seat. I looked around for the waiter to ask for the bill, but there was no sign of him.

Vir got to her feet and took my arm. “Come. I can’t wait to show you around my home.”

I pulled a silver coin from my pocked and dropped it on the table. I had no small change and that coin would more than cover the cost of the coffees, Grimmon’s pastries, and the tablecloth. I ground my teeth. It seemed the waiter would get an undeserved tip after all. A large one, at that.

As Vir guided me to her carriage, I noticed a peculiar design painted on its door. A faint tingle of recognition wafted across my brain, but Igor whipped the door open before I could examine it further.

Once Vir and I were seated side by side, Igor helped Grimmon into the carriage. He sat opposite us, keeping his head bowed and tugging the tablecloth forward to hide his face. I thought I heard him whisper something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

Vir banged her hand on the roof, and the carriage moved off, rumbling over the cobbles as we passed down the street.

“You needn’t worry,” she said. “Igor has a vast collection of potions and remedies. Your uncle will be as right as rain in no time.”

I grunted something in reply. My head was spinning to come up with a way to keep Grimmon close by when we reached her home. That way I could fend off any attempts to remove the tablecloth hiding his face. But if Igor took him away to treat him, all would be lost. He’d discover Grimmon wasn’t a doddery old man, and seeing as this was a world without goblins, I’d have an awful lot of explaining to do. Things could get more than a little awkward and, worst of all, I’d probably never get to the bottom of how Vir had known my name.

The coach left the town and soon we were bowling along a meandering road through open countryside. Vir pointed out things of interest as we passed them – an ancient sycamore, a graveyard, a hovel whose ragged occupants scuttled inside at our approach, a stone bridge over a river – and it didn’t seem long before the coach was rumbling alongside a high stone wall.

Vir squeezed my arm. “We’re here.”

We turned into a driveway and I caught a glimpse of a large, steep-roofed house, its walls dark against the bruised clouds gathering in the distance. Vacant-eyed windows stared blindly at the overgrown garden, and a pair of spires clawed at the darkening sky.

Then the coach completed its turn and that view was gone. All I could see out of the coach’s windows were the gnarled trunks of leafless oaks on either side of the drive.

Vir’s cold hand squeezed mine. “You’re going to like it here so much you won’t want to leave.”

*** Continued in episode 3 ***

The Ghastly Exchange – Index of Episodes